The Birth of Albion
by Ivy Kanka
Summary: The new king of Essetir uncovers Merlin's secret and seeks to exploit it to bring about the ruin of Arthur and Camelot. Can Arthur and Merlin's bond withstand the ultimate betrayal? Canon romance, some character whump, magic reveal, angst, probably some hurt/comfort, and humor for good measure. No slash. Alternate ending starting at Season 5.
1. Prologue

**First fanfiction!**

 **Like many Merlin fans, I was left frustrated by the ending of the show. I recently rediscovered my love of the show when I stumbled on the wealth of Merlin fanfiction here. I've just rewatched the show (the whole damn show at the end of the semester; brilliant idea; would not recommend), and I'm going to attempt to write my own ending to the show. This picks up after Season 5 Episode 2 (Arthur's Bane Part II, which ends with Mordred being knighted).**

 **Expect cannon romance, some character whump, magic reveal, angst, probably some hurt/comfort, and comedy. No non-cannon slash. I'll attempt to keep the age-appropriateness of the show but there may be a couple of chapters that get more graphically violent. I'll give ample warning at the beginning of the chapter if/when that happens.**

 **I don't own Merlin, because obviously if I did, it would have gone like this.**

 **Thanks for reading! Enjoy :)**

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Merek fiddled with the ring on his thumb as he waited to be announced before King Lot. The King had only just begun his rule but already he had proven himself to be a harsh and firm sovereign. It was only natural, Merek mused to himself, for only such a man could fill Cenred's shoes after the witch Morgause had killed Essetir's king and taken control of the army before being destroyed in Camelot. Such was the fate of meddling witches.

"Merek of Corith, you may approach the king!" The herald's cry interrupted Merek's reflections.

Straightening his shoulders, Merek brought himself before his king.

"Your highness," he bowed.

King Lot lounged in his throne and eyed the spy. "Speak, Merek. Tell me of what you have learned in Camelot."

"Yes, sire. As you remember, my lord, in my last report I spoke to you of King Arthur's manservant. I received instruction to learn all I could about him. I trust that you wish to exploit him as a weakness of the king's."

Lot frowned, "I know all this. Get on with it, then. Does this man have any use to us?"

Merek lifted his notes in a gesture, "I believe he may, my lord. He provided a most interesting study. The manservant, Merlin, was once a subject of your own lands, my lord. He hails from Ealdor where his mother still resides. Merlin has a unique relationship with King Arthur. My investigations revealed that he has served Arthur for nearly seven years, coming into his service during Uther's reign shortly before Arthur came of age. While a certain attachment is typical towards trusted servants, Arthur allows the manservant an unusual place at his side.

"I observed a great deal of teasing from both servant and master, the sort you would observed between friends, even brothers. The manservant is free to make jokes at the king's expense to his face and receive no serious reprimand beyond additional chores now and then. While Merlin does exhibit a generally subservient attitude towards the king and other nobles, he shows no inhibitions about speaking his mind. What is more interesting, is that Arthur listens to his counsel and gives it nearly the same consideration as any of the knights or counselors of his infamous round table. Merlin rarely leaves Arthur's side when he is not occupied with his duties, and attends to the king even on quests within the kingdom and beyond. I do not believe Arthur ever leaves the city without his manservant. Indeed, even as a prince embarking on the errant quests unapproved by Uther, Arthur brought Merlin with him."

King Lot interjected as Merek paused to shift his papers, "I take it that this Merlin is Arthur's secret companion, then? Such things are not unheard of. Exposing his affair would be a simple matter."

Merek shook his head. "I thought as much as well, my lord. But Merlin is the ward of the court physician and has rooms there. I have not observed him ever staying the night in the king's chambers. What's more, you'll remember that Arthur chose the girl that served Lady Morgana to be his queen. If his fancies lay elsewhere, he would have chosen a political match. No, my lord, I do not think that is the nature of Merlin's relationship with the king. Merlin exhibits a similar relationship with Arthur's most trusted knights. The brotherly kinship that is found in knighthood seems to partially extend to the manservant, though the boy is no warrior. He appears to be the target of most of their jokes and is frequently used when they train. He is incredibly clumsy and awkward, the ideal target of a knight's amusement. Their games appear to be good-natured, though. None show any true animosity towards the servant. Indeed, Merlin is well-liked in the palace and the town below."

Lot grumbled impatiently, "What use is this man then? You said he would be useful! I see no use from any of this."

Merek bowed swiftly, "My lord, if you would indulge me a little longer. There is an air of mystery about Merlin that I noticed only after I had observed him for several weeks. The boy has a secret, I am sure of it. At first, I thought perhaps that the comical, clumsy persona was merely an ruse, that the servant was secretly a trained bodyguard for the king. Three times, I have observed him sneaking about the citadel at night. Each time, he sought information about guests in the palace and uncovered some plot against the king. Afterwards, the conspiracy was publicly revealed through some indirect means of Merlin. I noted one of your own spies was discovered as well, though he was thwarted without the king's knowledge of him. I did not observe the incident myself, but I am sure of Merlin's involvement. I do not doubt that he had a hand in any number of other unusual occurrences during my stay in Camelot."

"He is bodyguard, then? Your earlier reports described him as thin and weak. It hardly seems possible."

Once again, Merek shook his head. "No, my lord. He is not. At least, not from what I can tell. When I observed Merlin when he thought he was alone, his persona was unchanged. In fact, the boy is one of the most incompetent spies I have ever seen. He seems to rely on luck to sneak about he palace and has only barely escaped detection many times. When he is caught lurking where he should not be, he comes up with the most preposterous excuses. From what I can tell, the only reason he remains in the king's confidences is because of the undying loyalty he has shown him.

"Even still, there is something that eludes me about this strange manservant. I have a hunch, my lord. A suspicion that I ask your permission to voice. I have no proof, my lord, other than instinct." Merek chanced a glance into the king's eyes and saw a glint of curiosity.

"Go on, Merek." King Lot inclined his head to the spy. "Your expertise grants you a right to voice the musings of your instincts."

"Thank you, my lord. I suspect that the boy may be hiding the only thing that could turn the king against him: magic."

Merek hid his satisfaction at seeing King Lot's shock. "Magic, Merek? So close to Arthur? How could this man, incompetent as you say he is, be practicing magic under the king's very nose? Explain yourself."

Merek nodded. "As I said, my lord, it is only a suspicion, but the boy is a ward of Gaius, the same that was physician to Uther and helped him during the Great Purge. The court physician was one a sorcerer himself, and is knowledgeable about the magic. Merlin looks to him as a father and shows a fascination with the subject that is unbecoming of a manservant to a king that claims a war against all such practices. I have seen Merlin express sympathies to sorcerers and druids alike. The boy's unlikely luck could be explained by magic, though I have not heard him incant any spells myself. Still, I have seen the abilities of others to conceal their magic in the past. Self-preservation is a powerful motivator, enough even for someone like Merlin to keep hidden."

"And Arthur? You are sure he does not know?"

"Quite, my lord. Arthur would find the idea of Merlin with magic laughable."

King Lot considered the revelation quietly for several minutes. Merek busied himself with folding his papers and returning them to inside of his jerkin, painfully aware of the king's eyes on him. As the minutes drew on, Merek found himself fiddling with his ring again. Did the king expect him to say more? Was he waiting for him to something else? Merek pressed his lips together, ready to speak up, although unsure of what he could say.

Before he could decide, though, King Lot broke the silence. "You have done well, Merek. I have one final question for you, however, before you are rewarded. Then I will have another task for you. If Merlin's secret were revealed to Arthur, how do predict the betrayal affect the young king? If what you say is true, Morgause and the Lady Morgana's failures to acquire the throne are easily explained. With a sorcerer at the heart of Camelot, practically standing behind the throne itself, and in the guise of such an easily overlooked servant, Arthur's hold on the throne is unshakable. This Merlin must be disposed of if I am to take Camelot. We cannot make the same mistakes as the witches, however. We cannot underestimate this sorcerer. He must be powerful to hold off the joined efforts of Morgause and Morgana. Rather than test that power, I would rather have Arthur remove himself from the sorcerer's shield of protection."

Lot locked eyes with Merek. "You say the bond between Arthur and Merlin is close. Is there any chance Arthur would be accepting of Merlin's magic?"

Merek hesitated, considering the question. "It is possible, sire. If there is anyone who could alter Arthur's mind on magic, it would be his manservant. Especially if he knew the degree of involvement that I suspect Merlin has had in protecting the king."

Lot nodded. "As I thought. Merek, you will be rewarded for your work thus far. That reward will be doubled, however, if you can bring me undeniable proof that this Merlin does indeed have magic. Be cautious, Merek. If Merlin becomes aware that you have learned his secret, I will see that your life is short and painful, if the sorcerer does not end it first."

Merek bowed stiffly as a knot formed in his stomach. "As you wish, your highness."

"Dismissed."

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 **Thanks for reading! Next chapter should be up soon.**

 **Please review and let me know what you think. :)**


	2. Trouble Brewing

**Chapter 1**

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"MEERLINN!" Arthur's roar rang through the castle, startling the manservant from the potion he was working on. A gold flash of Merlin's eyes kept his work from spilling onto the floor. With fumbling fingers, Merlin worked a stopper into the vial he had nearly dropped and set it on the table. He glanced at the table, making sure there was nothing left out that could incriminate him or give Gaius reason to scold.

"MEEERLINNN!" The second shout echoed louder than the first, prompting the warlock to grab his coat and head for the door. What had he done this time? Wanting to prevent a third call, which would surely result in some extra chore beyond what he was already in for, Merlin broke into a jog through the castle halls. Darting past other servants, Merlin mentally reviewed the morning, trying to remember if he had missed something important. He had laid out the king's clothes, picked up laundry, brought breakfast, made the bed, and then cleared the table once Arthur had eaten. What was wrong then?

Merlin slowed when he got to the king's door. Couldn't have him thinking Merlin would rush to answer his call. He knocked politely on the door.

Arthur jerked open the door, "Get in here, Merlin."

Merlin obliged. "Was there something you wanted, sire? I thought I might have heard you call."

The king slung an arm around Merlin's shoulders, "I want you to take a look around this room and tell me what's missing."

Inhibited by the arm that was dangerously close to pulling him in a headlock, Merlin scanned the room, clueless as to what he was look for. "A sense of cozy contentment?" Merlin guessed.

Arthur released his manservant with a grunt of disgust, "My sword, idiot! What have you done with my sword?"

"Ah!" Merlin brightened for a moment, then grinned sheepishly. "I was, uh, cleaning it."

"Cleaning it?" Arthur asked skeptically. "I didn't ask you to clean it. When have you ever taken an initiative?"

"I take initiative all the time!" Merlin replied, offended. "The, um, the hilt. It was dirty. Needed a good polish. You know, a lot of dirt can get into all those crevices. Especially because your hands get so sweaty."

"Sweat-? I don't…" Arthur scowled dangerously. "Merlin, I wear gloves when I train."

Invested in the lie now, Merlin pressed on. "Sure, when you train, but you know when you're just wearing your sword, council meetings, dinner, you put your greasy hands all over the hilt. And who has to clean it? Me. That's who."

Concentrated on his story, Merlin didn't notice the apple Arthur grabbed from the table until it was flying towards his head. Merlin ducked just in time; the man at the door was not so lucky.

"My hands are not greasy!" Arthur declared heatedly, then noticed the servant standing in the doorway rubbing his shoulder. "Yes?"

"The emissary from Essetir has returned, sire. He requests an audience with you." The servant bowed, hiding the slightest grin at the king's embarrassment.

Merlin made no such attempt to hide his grin as Arthur thanked and dismissed the servant at the door. Arthur saw the smirk on his manservant's face and responded, "My sword had better be spotless. As should my armor. And my boots. And why don't you go make sure Leon and Gwaine's armor are well polished too. I'm sure they'd appreciate it." He smiled brightly at Merlin's groan. "Better get to it."

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Merek of Corith bowed before King Arthur. "Thank you for granting me audience, your majesty."

Arthur nodded from his throne. "Of course. I hope that we can repair the relationship between Camelot and Essetir. I have no quarrel with Lot."

"My lord wishes for the same, majesty. He was pleased with your suggestions for a treaty. There are a few items, your majesty, that my lord asked me to bring before your council. He also asked that I present you with a token of his good will." Merek offered the case in his hand to the king. A guard took the gift and presented it to King Arthur.

Arthur opened case and made a show of admiring the dagger for a moment. "Give my thanks to King Lot. And of course, you may speak with my council when we convene tomorrow." Arthur nodded his dismissal and turn to hand the case to Merlin. The empty spot at the wall reminded him that he had set his servant to work for the afternoon. Arthur held back a chuckle and instead placed the case on his knee.

"Althor of Coucy!" The announcement returned Arthur's attention to the business of the court.

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"I'm sure they'd appreciate it." Merlin mocked his master as he rubbed a rag against the breastplate on his lap. Leon and Gwaine had been very appreciative of the offer and had cheerfully handed him their armor. Percival had been sure Arthur wouldn't mind if Merlin polished his armor too, so a large pile lay at his feet, waiting for him to wear out his arms polishing. For all his complaining, Merlin didn't really mind the teasing he got from the knights but often wondered if they knew how much he had to do around the castle. He would only be able to get a portion of the way through this task before he had to stop to go serve Arthur's dinner. Then there was the laundry to wash, more potions to make for Gaius before he made his rounds, and then at some point, finish all the armor.

None of that left time for him to discover how a poisoned spike had ended up on the hilt of Arthur's sword. That had been the real reason Merlin had taken Arthur's sword, of course. He had been cleaning it, in a manner of speaking. Cleaning his own blood off from where the tiny, needle-like spike that had been wedged into the engraving on the hilt had pierced his thumb. Fortunately, the effects of the poison hadn't been immediate and Merlin had recognized the sleepy feeling in time to get to Gaius with the sword before collapsing. The poison was only designed to knock the victim out for a few hours, and Gaius had kept an eye on him until he awoke.

Merlin had no idea who was responsible for the spike, and even less of an idea of what the poison was intended to accomplish. Why would someone need the king unconscious for only a few hours? Arthur was frequently occupied elsewhere for hours at a time. There was no upcoming tournament to rig. And the spike had only appeared several hours after Arthur's training yesterday. A rap at the door of the armory interrupted Merlin's thoughts.

"The king will be wanting to eat soon," Gwaine winked at his friend. He glanced down the passage behind him for a moment, and then turned back to Merlin, whispering conspiratorially. "If you've got too much to do today, you can skip mine. I don't need my armor as shiny as his royal highness's pride."

Merlin laughed and tossed the polishing rag to the ground. "Thanks, Gwaine. But don't worry about me, I'll figure out some way to get it all done." For a brief moment, Merlin wished it was Lancelot standing in the doorway. He would have understood what Merlin intended. Then the moment passed and he grinned at Gwaine. "I had better see to Arthur's dinner. You know how grumpy he gets when he's hungry."

Gwaine laughed and clapped the manservant on his shoulder. "That's the spirit."

The two men started down the corridor, joking amicably. Ahead of them, Arthur's newest knight walked towards them. Mordred offered them a hesitant smile, his eyes lingering on Merlin's.

A mischievous grin twitched at the corner of Gwaine's mouth. "Sir Mordred! I've been looking for you!"

"Me?" Mordred shifted his glance to Gwaine's cheery face.

Gwaine grasped Mordred's shoulder and nodded encouragingly. "Yes, Mordred, you. I do believe it's your turn to polish up the armor that's been collecting in the armory." Gwaine winked at Merlin before turning back sternly to the younger knight. "We share our chores here in Camelot, and we let you off easy at first, but now you need to start pulling your weight."

"I'm sorry! I didn't know…" Mordred started, flustered. Unable to hide his grin, Merlin offered the boy a sympathetic look and shook his head.

"There's a lot to learn about Camelot, Mordred." Merlin ducked past the confused knight. "I'd offer to help but I need to see to the king's dinner."

Leaving Gwaine with the hapless Mordred, Merlin continued down the corridor. He would have to thank Gwaine later for his bit of mischief. Merlin was grateful that he had taken care of Arthur's armor first. The other knights would be just as amused by Mordred taking on Merlin's task, but Merlin didn't want to trust Arthur's armor with the druid boy.

Merlin didn't want to like Mordred. Or rather, he wished he had a reason to dislike the boy, but he found himself just as charmed by the young knight as the others. Kilgarrah's warnings echoed in his mind every time he laid eyes on the druid, and he knew Mordred was hurt by his wariness. The boy hadn't done anything to warrant the coldness with which Merlin treated him. At least, not yet. But he was destined to kill Arthur. Merlin could not be drawn in by the person Mordred was now. Not when he knew what he would become.

Lost in thought, Merlin was surprised to find himself at the kitchens. Snapping back to the present, the manservant put together Arthur's dinner on a tray and hurried out, eager to escape the cook's suspicious gaze.

Arthur barely noticed Merlin when he arrived with his dinner. The king was concentrated on a report that must have come in during the court hearings.

"You should take a break, sire. You may strain yourself with all that reading." Merlin teased.

Arthur looked up from the papers and glared. "Speaking from experience?" Still, the king moved his papers to side so that his servant could place his dinner before him.

Merlin chanced a glance the report; it bore a list of suspected incidents of witchcraft in the lower town. Mostly miraculous healings, and a few strange apparitions. He made a mental note to ask Gaius about them later. He set the plate in the spot Arthur had cleared and reached for his cup.

"Will that be all, sire?" he asked as he poured the king's drink.

Arthur frowned. "Where are you off to in such a hurry? Do you have somewhere to be?"

Merlin bowed and met Arthur's eyes, "There is quite a bit of armor that needs polishing right now." There was no need to let the king know who would finishing that job.

"Oh, right." Arthur shifted his jaw, contemplating for a moment. "Well, that can wait. I want those boots shined." He gestured to the shoes with his knife. "I want them done now."

Merlin turned his back on the king to hide his eyeroll as he scooped up the shoes. He pulled a rag from his pocket and looked in the cabinet for the little jar of oil and brush he kept there. The oil jar was nearly empty. The manservant huffed in frustration and closed the cabinet a little too sharply. With the boots under his arm, he started towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Arthur's voice caught Merlin just as he grabbed the handle.

"I need to get more polish."

Arthur threw his hands into the air. "Then shine them without it! Use your spit for all I care!" He glared at Merlin, "Don't actually do that."

This time, Merlin made no attempt to hide eye roll. He dropped onto a chest at the foot of the king's bed and set to work. So Arthur was in a mood. Why did he feel the need to make Merlin's life more difficult whenever he was feeling grouchy? It was times like this that life was most frustrating. Not that he wanted any more great threats attacking Camelot, but least when it was, everyone was busy. Tensions were high and everyone was stressed with things to do and problems to take care of. But at times like this, when the city was safe and the people at peace, the rest of the citadel could take it easy. Merlin, on the other hand, still had protect the realm and her sovereign from all manner of dangers and there was no one to really share the burden of that with. Arthur might have the freedom to be in a mood and decide to overwork his manservant, but Merlin really didn't have time for this sort of tomfoolery.

Merlin was so invested in his thoughts and the rhythm of the brush on the leather that he didn't hear Arthur until an empty cup clattered into the bedpost beside him.

"Merlin! Are you deaf and well as an idiot?" Arthur spread his arms, waiting for a response.

"I'm sorry, what was the question?" Merlin asked, too irritated to include the appropriate title of respect, but not cheerful enough to tease.

Arthur groaned. "Is this about the armor? If that's what you're sore about, then you don't have to get it done today. I won't need any of it until tomorrow anyway. Now will you pay attention?"

Merlin grinned, "Oh I see, you don't really need your boots shined. You just wanted to talk. You could have just asked."

"No," Arthur scowled. "It would just sound strange if I were talking to myself." Merlin raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Fine! I want to know what you think about all this." The king offered Merlin the report he had been looking at before.

Leaving the boots on the chest, Merlin took the paper and studied it. On second appraisal, nothing stood out as noteworthy. "What exactly am I looking for?"

"Did you not hear anything I said? These cases of witchcraft all started cropping up almost overnight. But there are quite literally no clues as to who is causing all this. Not a single suspect. Not even a suspicious old hag." Arthur sighed and slumped in his chair. "I know how my father would have handled this. But I have no taste for the likes of the Witch Hunter. And even if I did, I don't think I even know who I could call on. How am I supposed to root out this sorcery without resorting to..."

Merlin skimmed through the report again. "No one's gotten hurt yet." He hesitated. "Maybe just let it be for now. If this sorcerer feels safe, he may grow bolder."

Arthur scowled again. "I'm not going to wait around for my people to be hurt before taking action. I want to catch this sorcerer before he…or she…has a chance to do any more harm."

Merlin shrugged. "I can talk to Gaius. Maybe he's heard something from the lower city that hasn't shown up in the report." He paused. "And I'm going down there later today to make deliveries. I'll keep my eyes open."

Arthur laughed, "Ha! Merlin, you wouldn't be able to spot a sorcerer in a crowd if he was wearing a giant pointy hat."

"Whatever you say, sire."

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 **Thanks for reading! Comments/critiques are welcome! :)**


	3. A Trap

**First of all, I am sorry it took so long for this update. I've had the bulk of it written in my notebook for weeks but didn't get around to typing it all out until a few days ago. I made this chapter longer than the others in the hope of making up for the delay.**

 **I hope you enjoy! Thank you to everyone who has followed this story and/or left a review.**

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Gaius was of little help. He had heard of nothing more than what was already in the report, and had cautioned his ward not to do anything foolish. Though the advice was well-intended, there were few things that frustrated him more than being instructed in common sense as though he had none.

As he made his rounds through the lower town, Merlin watched for signs of magic. But despite a vague feeling of uneasiness, there were no hints of sorcery: no strange symbols scratched into wood, no talismans hanging in windows, no suspicious characters, nothing. The nagging uncertainty though, would not be dissuaded on lack of evidence. There had been a time when Merlin would have ignored the feeling. Over the years, he had learned to heed his instincts, but more so he had learned that this sort of feeling could be a warning for just about anything and while ignoring it would be foolish, focusing on it could cause just as much trouble. He would just need to keep his guard up until the hidden threat chose to reveal itself or leave.

Meanwhile, he had potions and poultices to deliver. The cold winter air bit at his fingers as Merlin fiddled with the note Gaius had given him. The shivering of his hands made Gaius's doctorly scrawl barely legible, even to Merlin's practiced eye. After a moment of deciphering, Merlin selected a tonic prescribed to Miss Mabel Tailor from his satchel and turned down the street to the seamstress's home.

Merlin rapped on Miss Tailor's door then took advantage of the shield from the wind the doorway provided to look back at Gaius's note. Four more deliveries. With luck, he would be back in the warmth of castle within the hour.

The door creaked open and the motherly Miss Mabel peered out. She broke into a grin when she saw the physician's ward. "Merlin! Come in, lad. You look near frozen. Did Gaius fix my tonic?"

Merlin grinned and stepped inside. "Afternoon, Miss Tailor." He offered the tonic to the woman. "Gaius said he made a few changes so that it won't unsettle your stomach so much. But I'd still recommend eating a bit of bread after you take it, just to be sure."

The seamstress took the tonic and eyed it warily for a moment. But then she smiled and said, "Thank you, dear. You are such a blessing to us." She set the tonic on the table and moved over to the woodstove. "Can I convince you to stay for a little? It's getting so cold these days, and you're liable to freeze in nothing but that coat. I've just been warming up some cider."

Merlin smiled apologetically, "Sorry, but I still have deliveries to make. Thank you though."

"Oh, you're too good," Mabel clucked. "Well, if you change your mind, stop in on your way back. I'll keep some cider warm just in case."

Merlin ducked his head in thanks and then bid the woman goodbye before heading back outside.

Clouds gathered overhead, blocking the sun and urging Merlin's feet to move faster as the already chilly day threaten him with rain or even snow. Eager to return to the castle, his next deliveries went swiftly and soon Merlin's satchel was empty. No longer needing to fumble with bottles and packets, Merlin stuffed his hands into the warm crooks under his arms. When he got back to the castle, he'd build a fire in Arthur's chambers. Maybe if Arthur was still in a sharing mood, he could sit by the fire while the king mused.

His head tucked down against his chest and his shoulders hunched against the wind, Merlin didn't notice the well-dressed man that stood in the middle of the street until he walked into him.

"S-sorry!" Merlin stammered as the annoyed gentleman glared and swept invisible dirt from the arm the manservant had collided with.

"Watch yourself! What are you doing in such a rush?" The man grabbed Merlin's arm. "Come on, now. I want more than a s-s-s-sorry!"

"What do you want then?" An edge crept into Merlin's good-natured tone as he jerked his arm out of the man's grasp. "I'm sorry I bumped you. You don't need to get angry!"

"Just who do you think you are? Show some respect to your betters!" The man shoved the manservant's shoulders, knocking him off balance.

"Hey, now! Enough of that!" Merlin demanded, getting angry. Acting subservient to royals and people of the palace was one thing, but this man bore no obvious titles or crests that Merlin could see, nor had he ever seen him in court. A simple merchant or whatever this man fancied himself had no right to put himself above him.

"Had enough have you?" The man rolled his shoulders dramatically. "I don't think you have." This time, the antagonist shoved Merlin in earnest and the manservant stumbled back into a stack of crates. Spying a bucket sitting near Merlin's head, the man grinned wickedly. "Learn to mind yourself better in the future," he instructed, then dumped the stale bucket over the manservant still sprawled on the ground.

Satisfied, the man walked off laughing.

Seething, Merlin yanked the bucket off his head, ready to let loose a spell that would cause the man to trip and fall against the cobblestones or tear his belt and find his pants around his waist. But as he shook the foul water from his hair and considered the best retribution, he realized the bucket had left a nasty knot at the back of his head. He probed the bump with his fingers and winced. It would be tender for a while. He turned his head and looked at his fingers. Blood. Great.

With a groan, Merlin pulled himself to his feet and headed for Miss Tailor's. Perhaps he'd have some cider after all.

* * *

Merek of Essetir handed the well-dressed man a small pouch of coins, who took the payment with sneer and a chuckle. Merek sent him on his way and rolled his eyes in disgust. While useful, men who would take money to knock about a young man without asking questions were despicable creatures. They couldn't be trusted to do anything more than cause trouble. All a man like Merek need to do was give them a target or point them in the right direction. This one had needed a bit of a costume as well, but the man had been more than pleased to receive a new set of clothes along with the coin.

Putting the hireling from his mind, Merek set out for Mabel Tailor's home, interested to see how well his trap would perform.

* * *

Merlin once again rapped on Miss Tailor's door but rather than waiting for the woman to answer, Merlin pushed the door open. "Miss Tailor," he called. "I think I'll have—" He stopped short at the sight before him. Mabel Tailor knelt in front of a circle that had been drawn in chalk on the floor. Dried herbs lay in bundles at tick marks along the circle and at the center sat a bowl filled with a liquid that looked suspiciously like Gaius's potion.

"Merlin!" The startled Mabel exclaimed. She stood quickly and attempted to hide the arrangement on the floor with her skirt. "I thought…I mean, this isn't…" She dropped her hands in defeat. "You won't tell, will you? Please, shut the door. I don't want anyone else to see."

"Mabel…." Merlin began sadly. He shut the door obediently and gestured to the circle. "It's been you then? All the magic these past few days? Why?"

The seamstress dropped into a chair and hung her head. "I didn't mean any harm," she whispered. "Gaius's potions weren't doing enough and so I thought maybe I could…enhance….them a bit. And then when I found I could, I just wanted to help others. I wasn't doing anything evil. You must believe me, Merlin. Please, don't tell the king."

Merlin took a deep breath. He certainly couldn't tell Arthur. Mabel Tailor was sweet woman and no threat to the kingdom. But Merlin hadn't missed that for all her explaining and pleading, she had made no promises to stop practicing magic. Still, he had to try. "Miss Tailor, Mabel, I won't tell the king anything. But you know the law. Sorcery is illegal. How can I serve the king if I know someone is practicing sorcery in his kingdom?"

Mabel frowned. "But don't you see, Merlin? I'm helping people. How can I stop? When there's so many I could help, how can I not?"

Merlin shook his head. "Then you should leave Camelot. There are other places where you can use magic. But now that I know, I can't pretend that I don't if you stay here and don't stop. I really am sorry."

"How can I leave?" Mabel looked around dejectedly. "This is my home. My livelihood is here." She turned back to Merlin. "You truly cannot pretend you saw nothing?"

Merlin shook his head sadly. "No. I'm sorry, Mabel."

"Then I won't let you tell anyone!" Mabel declared, throwing her arm out at the startled warlock.

Merlin dove for the door but Mabel's chanted spell hit him before he could grab the handle. His vision faded and he was briefly aware of Mabel whispering, "I'm sorry too" before losing consciousness.

* * *

"Merlin?" Queen Guinevere tapped on the door of the physician's chambers as she entered.

"My lady!" Gaius said when he looked up from the book on his workbench. "Merlin isn't here. I sent him to deliver medicines hours ago; I haven't seen him since." Gaius peered at Gwen over his spectacles. "He isn't with the king?"

"No, I came here to fetch him. Arthur hasn't see him since dinner and he's already sent someone to check the armory. We thought you might have him working on something."

Gaius frowned. "Well that's odd. I haven't given him anything extra to do." The physician shrugged. "He's probably hiding from work somewhere. Or maybe he went to the tavern with Gwaine again."

It was Gwen's turn to frown. "You know, that never really seemed like Merlin. Maybe he's changed, and I just don't see him as often now, but I never saw him slacking off or sneaking off to the tavern. He's alright, isn't he?"

Gaius smiled kindly at the queen. "Quite, my lady. Though your concern for him is appreciated. He's fine."

"Well, if he comes back here first, will you tell him Arthur wants to see him?"

Gaius nodded, "Of course, my lady."

The queen smiled and left, leaving the court physician to ponder over whether the missing manservant really was as well as he had led the queen to believe.

* * *

A dull headache welcomed Merlin to consciousness. His struggle to lift his eyelids yielded a view of his lap. He lifted his head and a stiff soreness protested from his neck and shoulders. An effort to roll his shoulders brought to his attention the rope that bound his arms behind the chair he was seated in.

The headache forgotten, looked around in panic. His ankles were secured to the legs of his chair, and the width of the chair's back prevented him from twisting to see behind him.

"Hello?" he croaked, the dryness in his throat resisting the attempt. "Miss Tailor?"

His call was answered with silence. Merlin closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, desperate to control the panic that was bubbling to the surface. He slowed his breath, listening for signs that Mabel was nearby. Somewhat calmed, Merlin opened his eyes and took a survey of the room.

He was still in Mabel's home. The chair he was tied to was presumably the twin of the one that sat on the other side of the table to his right. The woodstove was before him and to his left he saw a neatly-made bed against the far wall. As much as he tried, he couldn't crane his neck to see much more, but the silence that had remained constant since he had woken suggested that he was indeed alone.

Merlin digested this fact while he chewed on his current problem. Would Mabel be returning? If she was, did he have enough time to escape and get back to the citadel before then? Avoiding a confrontation would be ideal, especially if Mabel was feeling vengeful when apprehended.

Merlin shivered, both from the thought of handling a cornered witch and the cold. A moment of clarity struck his thoughts and his eyes darted back to the woodstove. The door had been left open and the ashes within were dull and dry. Mabel had been gone for some time.

Merlin scanned the room again, this time noting a lack of personal items that would normally be there. Mabel must have fled Camelot. Merlin heaved a sigh of relief and with a muttered word, the ropes securing him fell loose.

Cautiously, Merlin rolled his shoulders and stretched out his legs. Needles pricked along his legs as he coaxed them awake. He was happy that Mabel had chosen to flee instead of causing trouble in town, though he wished she hadn't felt the need to knock him out before leaving.

Wind howled through the edges of the doorframe and Merlin shivered. An awful thought struck him: no one would have started looking for him until the next day, maybe even longer. He very well could have frozen to death, or at least lose a few fingers and toes before help came if he hadn't been able to free himself. He ran his fingers through his still damp hair at the thought. Such was the hazards of routinely disappearing without notice.

Having regained feeling in his legs, Merlin stood and took a quick glance about the room. There were no signs of Mabel's destination or anything else of interest. She also appeared to have taken any evidence of sorcery. His report would have to be entirely based on his testimony, if he gave a report at all.

Satisfied there was nothing left, Merlin headed out into cold, the matter of what to tell Arthur on his mind.

* * *

Merek watched Merlin leave Mabel Tailor's home then pulled away from the peephole. Mabel stood huddled next to him, disapproval clear on her face. When the sorcerer was safely out of earshot, the witch spoke up.

"What was the use of that? You've taken away my home and livelihood for nothing! Merlin's a good boy. He may have a bit of magic but he's hurting no one. And don't think you can bribe him to turn on the king. He's devoted to him. What—"

Merek cut off the woman's chatter with a knife positioned under her chin.

"You have done your part, miss. If I were you, I would run to your sister and her sons and hug them now. I may have a use for you again soon. I am tempted to take another of her children to assure your good behavior." The fear in the woman's eyes answered for her and Merek flicked the knife back into its sheath in his sleeve. "Run along now."

Without a word, Mabel scurried away.

Wrapping his cloak tighter, Merek started back to the Rising Sun where he was lodged. The day had gone rather well he decided. The king held no suspicions about his presence, and he figured he had a least a week in Camelot for the petty changes on the bogus treaty. His trap for Merlin had gone just as well. Before he could acquire proof for King Lot, he reasoned, he needed proof for himself, to see Merlin use magic with his own eyes.

Like the thug who had convinced the manservant to return to the seamstress's home, Mabel had been easy enough to sway with the right price. Though coin had not been as persuasive as it had been for the thug, the safety of a certain widow and her offspring had proved to be an adequate incentive.

A light sprinkle of snow swirled in the air before him and he looked up at the sky. Tiny flakes danced in the air above him and flurried their way among the rooftops to the ground, barely visible in the dwindling light. The clouds had been heavy before; there would likely be a blanket of snow in the morning.

At the thought of the next day, Merek found himself grappling with his burden of proof once again. For all the ease with which a person could be found guilty of sorcery in Camelot, it was incredibly difficult to find solid evidence that a particular person was a practicer beyond eyewitness testimony. Books and talismans were proof enough of sorcery but they rarely betrayed the identity of their owner.

Furthermore, Merek had already conducted a thorough search of Merlin's chambers. The manservant had been incapacitated by the poison on Arthur's sword for several hours. Although Merek had hoped the man would pass out in the king's chambers, Gaius had still gone about his usual rounds once his ward was safely lain on his bed. The presence of the sorcerer, though unconsciousness, had unnerved Merek greatly but he was sure that he had searched the man's quarters well enough. The manservant's room, though untidy, was sparse and held only a few personal effects. The physician's rooms had been more densely cluttered but the books and potions that filled the shelves were not out of place in the possession of a court physician. No, if Merlin had any magical artifacts, they were not hidden there.

It seemed the only evidence Merek had at his disposal was anecdotal. While such a testimony on its own would not be difficult to obtain, Merek did not want to tip his hand early. At the present moment, only Lot's court, Merek, and now the unfortunate Mabel were involved. How could he force Merlin to use magic before enough witness without revealing him to King Arthur or raising the sorcerer's suspicions?

Even as he formed the question in his mind, the solution came to him so abruptly that he stopped in his tracks. He rolled the idea around in his head, considering probabilities and weighing risks, and happily found it worthy. He started for the inn again, this time contentedly working out the details of his new plan.

At the inn, Merek stamped the snow from the bottom of his boots and welcomed the warmth and merriment from the tavern. He entered, eager to share his own, knowing that he would sleep well that night.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what you think. :)**


	4. Warmth

**My apologies for not updating sooner. I realized that I had created a gaping plot hole in the previous outline I had for this story. I've spent the last several weeks trying to rework the plot to fix it. The plot has improved because of this (I think so, at least), but I'm now struggling to bridge what's currently published with what I have planned.**

 **I've had this portion written for some time now, and I had hoped to add more but it didn't seem fair to make you wait any longer. So this chapter is shorter than the others but hopefully it will suffice for now.**

 **Thanks to everyone who has followed and reviewed so far! And extra special thanks to Freya Potter, Isetba, Jelame, MegRising, Rebuilt Emu, Wolfy76398, knobrien21, and the1writingboy for favoriting! If I could bake you all cookies, I would.**

 **As always, any comments/criticisms you have are welcome! And if you have any theories or thoughts, I'd love to hear them. It may help me overcome this troublesome writer's block.**

* * *

"Are you sure it would be wise to tell Arthur?" Gaius asked as he set two steaming bowls on the table, one in front of his shivering ward and the other before himself.

Merlin sighed. "What else am I supposed to do, Gaius? Arthur needs to know the threat is gone before he starts a witch hunt." He stirred his spoon through the stew suspiciously. "If I tell him that Mabel is long gone, I doubt he'll go after her."

Gaius frowned at both Merlin's hesitancy with his dinner and his apathy. "Are you really willing to risk Mabel's life for this? You could try convincing Arthur to wait a little longer."

Merlin resisted rolling his eyes. "I tried. I really don't think she's in that much danger, Gaius." He took a careful sip of the stew and was relieved to find it tasted normal. A week ago, Gaius had accidently added a stomachache potion to dinner and they'd both had the runs that night. These sorts of mistakes had been occurring more frequently of late; Merlin suspected the physician needed new spectacles but when he'd mentioned it last, Gaius had become irritated so the topic had been dropped.

"You'd best swallow that down quickly," Gaius advised. "Arthur wanted you to go to him as soon as you got back. Be grateful I took pity on you." A smile twitched at the edge of his mouth when his ward's head darted up indignantly.

Rather than offer a retort, Merlin lifted the bowl to his lips and suck down the stew in a few large gulps.

"Merlin!" Gaius cried, at first in warning and then a second time in reprimand when he saw the gold fading from his ward's eyes.

Merlin grinned and hopped up from the table, empty bowl in hand. "I don't have really have time to let it cool," he offered as an unapologetic excuse.

He left the physician to his own stew, trying to ignore the weight of Mabel's fate on his shoulders.

* * *

Arthur pulled his cloak tighter and glared at the firewood that had been delivered to his chambers hours ago. He had been in and out of the room several times since then and each time had become more frustrated to find that Merlin still hadn't been in to make the fire. He had finally decided to take care of some papers for the next council meeting while he waited for his lazy manservant to return. An hour into the endeavor, however, Arthur's stubborn patience was in danger of being overcome by the temptation to build the fire himself. As the light outside faded into the darkness of night, Arthur's annoyance morphed to worry.

Arthur lit a second candle from his desk and pushed his chair back, whether to see to the fire or to find his manservant still undecided in his mind when a dark-haired head appeared at the door.

"You sent for me?" Merlin asked oh-too-innocently.

"Dammit, Merlin! Where have you been?" Arthur leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the desk, all worry vanished. "You haven't been in the armory. I found Mordred there doing your polishing."

"That was Gwaine—" Merlin started sheepishly but Arthur had no intention of hearing his excuses yet. Gwaine had already told Arthur about the prank and he had laughed just as hard as the others about it—but Merlin needed to squirm a little more for taking the rest of the day off. "While you were lazing about, I've nearly frozen to death in here." He glared pointedly at the hearth.

Merlin's face contorted into an odd combination of frustration and guilt but had the decency to settle into guilt after a moment.

"Right, I'll fix that." Merlin moved over to the fireplace and started cleaning out the ashes from the previous fire, a task that really should have been done much earlier.

Arthur leaned his chair back further till it balanced on the back two legs and adjusted his feet on the table accordingly as he watched his servant work. "So where were you? The tavern? Don't lie if you were. I'll find out eventually."

Merlin scowled, and Arthur grinned in anticipation of the coming confession.

"No, actually," Merlin started. He hesitated for a moment before blurting out, "I solved your sorcerer problem."

Arthur nearly lost his balance on the two chair legs at that statement. Fortunately, the manservant was too focused on arranging the firewood to notice. Arthur quietly leaned forward to sit in the chair properly before nonchalantly inquiring, "Really? And how did you do that?"

"Scared 'em off," he mumbled.

"That isn't something to joke about, Merlin." Arthur leaned back in his chair again, though this time he was careful to keep all four legs on the floor.

"I'm not!" Merlin insisted. "I had a, uh, encounter with the person and they left town. You don't need to worry about it anymore."

Arthur sighed. Merlin could get so odd about some things, especially when it came to magic. He had seemed uncomfortable about the reports of magic in the town, almost as if he didn't want to believe they were a threat.

"As much as I would like to pretend there is no sorcerer in town, I, unlike you, am not at the liberty to ignore the facts."

The fire caught suddenly and Merlin stumbled quickly away, nearly falling on his rear. Before Arthur could laugh, however, Merlin turned to him heatedly. "Is it really so hard to believe that I took care of it?"

He seemed genuinely offended and Arthur took a moment to consider before responding. Merlin did have a habit of getting himself involved in these things.

"Merlin, I showed you that report so that you could keep your eyes open. Not so that you would go hunt the sorcerer down," Arthur said carefully, still unsure of how well he believed his servant.

Merlin's face lighted a bit and he relaxed into a sitting position by the fire, knees draw to his chest. "I didn't go hunting for her. I just walked in at the wrong moment."

"Her?" Arthur prompted.

Merlin eyed him then turned his gaze to the fire. "Can you just accept that it's been taken care of and leave it at that?" His tone was soft and almost pleading. Had someone been hurt? Had Merlin been hurt? But even under closer scrutiny, the manservant didn't seem to be in any pain. Perhaps, then, the witch had been someone Merlin knew?

"Merlin," Arthur said gently, once again leaning towards the man. "I need to know what happened. If there is someone using magic in Camelot, I need to know who. I have to keep my people safe."

Merlin gave him a half-smile. "I figured you would say that." He shifted closer to the fire and picked up a fire poker. He prodded at the center of the fire for a moment and sighed. "Mabel Tailor. She is—was—a seamstress. A good one too. She picked up a lot of Gwen's old clients. Gaius had me deliver a tonic to her, and I walked in while she was trying to cast some spell."

"Please tell me you turned and ran. Tell me you didn't do anything foolish."

Merlin's mouth twitched into a smile, "You know me, Arthur. I can't keep my mouth shut." He poked at the fire again. "I tried to talk to her, convince her that it wasn't too late to stop."

"Merlin…" Trust Merlin to try to see the good in even a witch.

"She couldn't be convinced. She asked if I was going to tell you and knocked me out with magic when I said yes."

"Merlin! You know, it's okay to lie to a witch like that. The loyalty is touching, really, but she might have killed you!"

Merlin shot him an irritated look but continued, "Anyway, when I woke up, she had packed all her things and fled. You're right, she could have killed me. But she didn't. I don't think she'll be coming back to Camelot."

Arthur frowned. "What makes you so sure?" In his experience, magic users were prone to delusional acts of vengeance upon the kingdom, or at least its ruling city.

"What does she have left for her here?" Merlin asked softly, keeping his gaze focused on the fire, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

Arthur stared at this servant's hunched figure, knees pulled close, the usually cheery face now solemn and contemplative. Merlin turned his head to meet Arthur's gaze and for a chilling moment, the flames reflected in his eyes, giving the effect of a magic-laced gold. But Merlin's eyes were blue as ever and a loud pop from the fire reclaimed the servant's attention. Arthur blew out a long breath. For all the dangerous situations he and Merlin found themselves in, suddenly being confronted by a startled witch would still be unsettling. It could bring up memories of the more deadly encounters they had faced. It was probably easier for Merlin to believe that was the end of it.

"Maybe you're right," Arthur relented. "There's likely little use in chasing after her now. I'll double the watch for a week or so in case she does return. Merlin turned to him, looking several shades happier. "Frankly," Arthur continued. "I'm really not as concerned by a seamstress-turned-witch as I am by some of Camelot's other enemies."

"Like rats?" Merlin grinned and jumped up from his spot on the floor.

"Rats?" Arthur repeated.

"Rats. Found one in the hall this morning. You might want to be careful in bed tonight. One might mistake one of your toes for a sausage and bite it."

Arthur instinctively curled his toes inside his boots at the thought. "You did not!"

"Maybe not. I don't remember." Merlin wiggled his eyebrows and grinned impishly. "But maybe I should check under your bed just in case." The manservant bent to look under Arthur's bed. The king took the opportunity to remove a boot and send it flying for the servant's behind. Merlin dodged just in time and the boot hit the side of the bed.

"I'm not getting you new sheets at this hour," Merlin said, brushing imaginary dirt from the spot.

"Shut up, Merlin."


	5. A Busy Day

**_A new chapter? What? I know, it's been forever. I have a longer author's note at the end. Minor warning if you're squeamish about needles or getting stitches._**

* * *

 _To His Most Royal Highness and my most gracious lord,_

 _The task which you have set upon me has proven fruitful. I expect to have reached a satisfactory conclusion before the week is done. As such, I have enclosed the revised document for your final drafting approval. Lest this displease you, I will return to your court at the conclusion of my work here._

 _As an aside, my lord, I will mention a singular seamstress I encountered in my journey here. I found her knowledge remarkable and as she sought new employment, I send her with high recommendations to your court. If she arrives, know she has my referral._

 _Your humble servant,_

 _Merek of Corith_

Merek placed the letter over the copy of the treaty draft and folded the papers three times. Holding the packet shut with one hand, Merek dripped a bit of wax onto the paper then used the ring on his thumb to seal the report.

He would hand the letter off to a traveler he had met in the inn, along with a few coins. The promise of a second payment upon delivery to a royal household would ensure the letter's swift passage. With good weather and a moderate pace by the traveler, the letter would be received in three days. The seamstress would arrive at near the same time. Merek shuddered a bit, at the thought of what was in store for the woman. Better her than him, at least.

Merek settled back in his chair in satisfaction and glanced at the window to his left. The sun had begun to set when Merek had sat down to compose the report, and he was grateful that he'd had the forethought to light the candle. While he had worked, the sunlight had faded and the room had darkened to just the anxious flickering of the candlelight. The soft light illuminated just enough of the window that Merek could see the reflection of his own candlelit face.

The image struck him with a moment's inspiration, and he twisted his ring so that the amber seal faced his palm. Merek drew his knife and set the blade into the crease on his hand that began between his thumb and first finger. He pulled in a slow breath and in the moment before exhalation, drew the tip of the blade across the crease. Blood beaded quickly at the slit and Merek pressed his ring against the cut. The ring warmed gently and Merek look back at his reflection, his eyes now glowing with the unmistakable gold of magic.

* * *

Morning came too soon for Merlin. The night before, he had needed to catch up on his work for Gaius, as the day hours had been spent catching up on all his chores for Arthur that had been missed when he had spent all too many hours the day before tied to a witch's chair.

"One of these days," Merlin grumbled to himself as he dressed. "One of these days, I'll go missing for more than a few days and Camelot will fall to ruins. And it won't be Morgana or an undead army. It'll be because everyone will just be waiting around for me to take care of every damn thing in this castle."

Merlin took one whiff of Gaius's breakfast slosh and decided that a roll from Arthur's tray would sit better in his stomach.

With a few mumbled words about being late, Merlin escaped Gaius's skeptical eye. The castle was already bustling with servants, many whose day had started many hours earlier. Merlin did not envy them. By the time he had made to the kitchens and received the king's breakfast tray, Merlin's mood had been brightened considerably by the greetings of passing servants and the kitchen staff, all to which he had returned with a willing smile.

On the way to the king's quarters, the greetings were intermingled with a few disapproving glances and several more snickers which he responded to with the same smile in between bites of a roll and snitched pieces of ham.

Merlin managed the door to Arthur's room with just a touch of magical help to keep an apple from rolling off the tray. A glance at the bed confirmed that Gwen was up and likely already setting about her daily tasks. Merlin chuckled to himself as he moved to set the tray on the table and rearrange the meal to hide the missing parts.

Arthur was still unsuccessful, then, in convincing his wife to abandon her servants' hours, an argument that had resurfaced recently. Arthur had thought that maybe once Gwen was used to her new position, she'd gradually be more comfortable with enjoying the perks of royalty. Merlin's warning that it was a fool's errand had been disregarded.

Privately, Merlin was pleased that Gwen still rose early; it meant that Arthur was entirely at his mercy to be awakened in as annoying a fashion as possible without having to worry about bothering Gwen or having her wake Arthur for him.

Still, if he were ever relieved of having to wake up early, Merlin would absolutely sleep in for as long as possible. Arthur would probably argue he already did.

With that thought, Merlin threw open the curtains and announced at the top of his voice, "Rise and shine, sire!"

The lumpy form of the king shifted slightly and a groan arose from the bed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that." Merlin snatched the king's pillow and danced out of the way as irritated but sluggish arm swung out after the pillow. Or maybe it was poorly aimed swing at the manservant. Either way, Merlin stayed a safe distance from the bed as he made a show of fluffing the pillow.

"Arthur, I can't make the bed if you're still in it. Come on, there's lots to do today."

The king's eyes finally slid open to glare at his manservant, which was returned with a cheeky grin.

"Up and at 'em," Merlin provided helpfully. Arthur lobbed Gwen's pillow at him in response. Merlin barely caught the projectile without dropping the other pillow. "That was rude," he scowled.

Having finally disrupted Merlin's annoyingly bright smile, Arthur sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Satisfied that his task was complete, Merlin set down the pillows and moved to arrange the curtains properly as from their jerked-opened, lopsided state. The king and his manservant settled comfortably into their respective morning routines, with Arthur sitting down to eat breakfast to watch Merlin make the bed.

Merlin, for his part, filled the morning quiet with servants' gossip. The gossip appropriate for a noble's ears, that is; the rest would be saved for Gwen's less delicate sensibilities when he saw her later. That and he didn't want Arthur to see her first and steal his thunder with the juiciest bits of palace chatter. Arthur simply didn't tell it right anyway.

"Rumor has it that Betsy, you know, the laundry girl that has sweet eyes for George—gods know why—has a sister coming into town looking for work in the castle. She's got eyes on a kitchen job but I think she'll be sorry if she does. Can you imagine being in the kitchens all day? It's always hot and people moving everywhere and just about anything can be ruined if you so much as look at it wrong, if you listen to Amberly anyways. I barely manage to get out alive with just going in and out for your meals."

Arthur snorted at this, clearly of the opinion that the problem was Merlin and not the kitchens, but Merlin continued before the king could offer his thoughts on the subject.

"Gwaine is scared stiff of the head cook, and I'd wager Leon and Percy are too, thought they won't admit it. Elyan isn't but that's only because the cook loves Gwen. Has ever since you started being open about her, so she's sweet to Elyan. That woman is crafty. You know if you treated me nicer, I bet she would too…"

Merlin carried on about the kitchens as tugged at the sheets and tucked them into place. It was a topic that didn't really require much thought; there were always new stories but the subject matter never really changed much. He was in the middle of telling how he'd managed to sneak an apple away for Arthur's plate this morning when one of the cooks was hoarding them for a dessert tomorrow when Arthur decided he was done with his breakfast. He signaled this to Merlin by lobbing the core of said apple at his manservant's arm.

Merlin put the last pillow into place then bent to pick up the core by its stem with two fingers and wrinkled his nose. "You would think that someone of your upbringing would know better than to throw his food on the floor, sire."

Arthur paused mid-stretch to retort, "I didn't throw it on the ground. I threw it to you. You just didn't catch it."

"Prat."

Arthur ignored the insult, knowing he'd won the round. "So what's there lots to do of today?"

Merlin arched an eyebrow at the king as he went to tidy up the remains of breakfast. "Shouldn't you know that already, sire?"

"Of course, I do. But you seemed so insistent that there's lots to do today just a bit ago. I'm curious to know what your idea of my kingly duties are for today." Arthur smirked at him, and suddenly Merlin was less confident about what the day had in store. Merlin usually knew his schedule so Arthur wouldn't be so sure of himself unless something has changed without his knowledge.

Merlin went to the wardrobe for Arthur's clothes and to give himself a moment to think. When he returned with outfit in hand, Arthur was grinning at him. "Well?" he challenged.

"Well…" Merlin started as he began to dress Arthur. He still couldn't think of what was different today but he resolved himself to false confidence and pressed on.

"You've a meeting with Leon about patrols where you'll both hem and haw until you've decided on some ridiculously over-complicated schedule."

Arthur turned to glare at him but was quickly reprimanded.

"Stand still. Then there's an audience with Lord what's-his-name with the big chin and bad teeth to talk about the treasury. He'll probably want to raise taxes even though everything is fine."

That evoked a snort from Arthur, though Merlin couldn't tell if it was in agreement or amusement, as the king's shirt was currently hiding his face. He pulled the material down but Arthur had resumed his smug and expectant look so Merlin continued.

"Then there's lunch with her royal highness, Gwen," Merlin winked at Arthur as he fastened the shirt's laces, "then open court for a bit. And then…" Merlin trailed off. Normally Arthur would join the round table knights for training but he vaguely recalled Arthur announcing he wouldn't be joining them today.

"Oh yes," Merlin announced triumphantly and Arthur finally scowled. "Lady Frumplyness is arriving today…" Merlin grinned as he heard Arthur choke back a laugh.

"If you'll let me finish, sire. The lady is arriving for a surprise visit today, and it wouldn't do for you to greet her sweaty and gross from training so you'll just have to skip that today and work on paperwork until then." Merlin slowed as a realization set in. "Which means I'll be working on paperwork too…dammit Arthur!" The manservant cut off the king's laugh with a tug that was a little harder than necessary for fastening his belt.

"I'm sorry, sire. I forget sometimes that you aren't as trim as you used to be."

Merlin backed away with a grin on his face but he wasn't quick enough.

"It's all muscle," the king retorted as he grabbed at his manservant. "C'mere, I'll prove it." Arthur pulled Merlin into a headlock and knuckled the top of his head.

"Lay off! That's not fair!" Merlin struggled for a bit, swatting ineffectively at the arm securing him. "Fine! All muscle! Lemme go!"

Arthur released him, still laughing at how easily Merlin was subdued.

Merlin waited until he was safely at the door with a basket of laundry in tow before he offered in his most cheeky tone, "Actually, I think I was right all along. You're really just a fat prat." And with that, Merlin slipped out the door and pulled it shut behind him. An exclamation of "Merlin!" and a thunk against the chamber door followed swiftly after.

Merlin chuckled gleefully and went on his way, leaving the king to no-doubt stare at himself in the mirror before his meeting with Leon.

The manservant hummed tunelessly as he thought over the day's tasks beyond those directly involving Arthur. If Gaius didn't come up with something for him to do, there was a chance he could let the laundry do itself while he worked on some new spells before he needed to check in with Arthur at the end of his first meeting. But if Gaius was in his chambers when Merlin arrived, chances were high the physician would have some chore that would suddenly need doing. Merlin half-suspected Gaius gave him extra work just so that he wouldn't spend more time in his room with magic.

The concern was touching but Merlin was no longer a boy. He was painfully aware of the risks he took and the price of discovery. What Gaius failed to grasp, it seemed, was he risks Merlin took in _not_ practicing. The days of flipping through the spell book with the eagerness of a child with a toy were long gone. Now his magical sessions were entirely comprised of intense study, searching for useful spells that would aid him in the never-ending task of keeping the king alive.

Every time he faced another of Morgana's schemes, Merlin was reminded of the growing gap in their magical education. The witch had studied under Morgause, who had been raised by High Priestesses. Even with all of Gaius's great knowledge, for which Merlin was grateful, the difference in training was deadly.

Merelin was so absorbed in his thoughts, he barely noticed he was turning a corner, moving towards the physician's chambers with habitual familiarity. The routineness of the route did nothing, however, to prevent Merlin from colliding with a man also turning the corner.

Arthur's laundry promptly scattered across the floor as Merlin stumbled into the man. Before even a word of apology could pass his lips, words of the old religion that were not his own reached his ears and the strewn clothes began moving back to his basket of their own accord. Merlin locked eyes with the man's golden ones, his expression undoubtedly horror-stricken. The man's face froze in fear and the clothes fell still.

The corridor fell deadly silent as the two evaluated the threat of the other. Merlin couldn't place the man's name, but he was sure he had seen him in Camelot before. He wasn't particularly —anything, really. His face was plain and his clothes were likewise unremarkable, not the fine weave of a noble's dress but a far cry from a peasant's rags. He had ashy blonde hair with not a few grey hairs at his temples. Merlin judged him to be about fifty, if the worn face and thinning hair were anything to go by.

The man stood defensively, but Merlin could find no sign of the malice or hatred that usually accompanied strange sorcerers in Camelot. Instead, he wrung his hands nervously, his right hand fiddling with a ring on his left thumb. The motion having captured his attention, Merlin notice the dribbling of blood from a cut on the man's hand.

Merlin was still unsure how to respond to the unexpected display of harmless magic when the man finally found his voice.

"Please don't tell anyone! You're the king's servant, aren't you? Please don't tell him! I meant no harm, really. I was just trying to help. I forgot myself is all. I'm from Essetir, and the laws, well, what I mean to say is, things are different about…"

Merlin stopped the man's panicked stammering before he could say anything more incriminating aloud.

"You're from Essetir?" Merlin paused, hesitant to share too much with the stranger. "I was born there."

The man seemed surprised by his response. "I see. But, ah, just now…are you going to…"

Merlin made his decision. "I didn't see anything worth telling anyone about."

The man's relief expressed itself in a loud sigh. "Thank you!" The man offered Merlin his hand. "I'm Merek, by the way. I'm here on behalf of King Lot to oversee the peace treaty."

"Nothing to thank me for," Merlin responded, taking the man's hand and smiling. "I'm Merlin, the king's manservant. But apparently, you knew that."

Introductions complete, Merlin knelt to pick up the strewn laundry the mundane way.

"Oh! Let me help you with that!" Merek scooped up a pair of breeches and offered them to Merlin who had gathered the rest in his arms. Merlin took the breeches with a smile and dumped the pile back into his basket.

"Thanks for the help," Merlin said as he hefted his load into a comfortable position in his arms. He paused and looked Merek in the eyes again. "Be careful," he stated, the barest hint of a threat laced into the warning.

Merek gave him a solemn nod. "I will. It won't happen again."

Merlin nodded in satisfaction, "I'd best be getting to this laundry then. It was pleasure to meet you." He turned to go then stopped. "I almost forgot, if you need that cut looked at, you can come with me to the physician's chambers. Gaius can clean and bandage it up for you."

Merek's brows drew up in surprise then looked at his hand, almost as if he had forgotten the still bleeding wound. He looked back at Merlin and smiled, "Thank you, I will."

Merlin led the way to the physician's tower and found himself in a very polite and proper conversation about the weather in Essetir and how it was different from that of Camelot.

When they arrived at the physician's quarters, however, they found them empty. Merlin's elation at the promise of uninterrupted study was quickly dampened as Merek sat on one of the benches and said, "I suppose I'll wait for him, then?"

Merlin shrugged, "He might be a while. If he isn't here, it may be that he's been called down into the lower town." He paused a moment. "I don't know what I'm saying. I can take a look at it. I've looked at more than my fair share of injuries and that hardly looks life-threatening."

Merek eyed the manservant apprehensively then shrugged his shoulders. "If you don't mind."

The manservant set the laundry basket down on the foot of the steps up to his room then moved to get some bandages from Gaius's stores. "What happened?"

Merek shifted to watch Merlin move about the room, and replied, "The string I used to tie up my bag had gotten knotted. I was trying to cut through it with my knife when my hand slipped, and I ended up slicing my hand. It hurt a good deal when it happened but it's not so bad now. More just a throbbing. I was actually trying to find the physician when I ran into you." The man chuckled. "Literally, I'm afraid. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to word it that way."

Merlin laughed and sat down across from the man, "Here, let me have a look." The physician's ward examined the cut. The skin between the first finger and thumb had been sliced through; if the fingers were fully extended, the gash would be pulled open even further. "Well, as far as wounds go, it's nothing worth bragging about, but I'd still like to put a stitch or two in, if you don't mind."

Merek gave him a nervous look again, so Merlin hastily added, "Have a good swig of this first; it'll help." He handed the man a flask of whiskey, kept on hand for just such purposes. While Merek busied himself with the flask, Merlin threaded one Gaius's smaller needles. Then he dampened a clean cloth and gestured for the Merek's hand again.

"So other than the weather, how are things in Essetir? I heard there was band of minstrels traveling there. Did you see happen to see them?" As he spoke, Merlin washed the injury and picked up the needle.

"I did actually. They played well enough but the best bit was the jugglers. There were two that threw knives back and forth between each other. Ow!" Merek looked down to see Merlin's needle had done its work while he spoke and the pinch he'd felt had been the thread pulling the skin together.

"That sounds terrifying to watch. I wouldn't recommend you try it, though." Merlin grinned meaningfully as he finished knotting the thread. He snipped the excess with Gaius's shears, then wrapped the wound with a bit of linen. "That should do it then. Only needed the one. Just to make sure it heals properly."

Merek examined Merlin's handiwork approvingly. "Thank you, Merlin." He stood and handed back the flask. "I'd best be on my way then. Good luck with the king's laundry." He nodded to the basket.

Just as he was about to walk through the door, he turned and met Merlin's eyes. "Again, thank you, friend." And he left.

* * *

"I think that's good, then." Arthur tapped the patrol schedule in approval. "I'll have Merlin see to having a copy made for you and your captain, Leon."

Leon nodded and checked that the ink was dry before rolling up the parchment. The meeting, in his opinion, had gone well. Since Arthur had been First Knight when he was a prince, he was very familiar with the process. And of course, Arthur's natural gift for strategy meant that creating a patrol schedule that appeared random to outside forces was made much easier.

There was a knock at the door and before either the king or his knight could respond, Merlin's head appeared at the door. "All finished up?"

Leon nodded to Merlin in acknowledgement while Arthur heaved a very put-upon sigh.

"Yes, Merlin. We're 'all finished up'." The king picked up the rolled parchment and handed it to his manservant. "I need two copies of this made. Deliver them to Leon by this afternoon. Leave the original in my chambers."

The manservant took the parchment with a nod and immediately opened it up. "Are you making these confusing just to make my life harder?"

Leon raised an eyebrow at the remark, and Arthur snatched the schedule back. "It needs to be complicated, _Mer_ lin. Not that you'd be capable of understanding. Fortunately for you, you don't need to be capable of understanding it. Just copying it." The king rolled the schedule up tightly and held it out to the servant. "Think you can do that?"

Merlin made a face but took the parchment and said, "Yes, sire. I think I'm capable of doing that."

Arthur snorted, and watched his servant exit the room. He turned back to Leon and clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm off to a dreadfully boring meeting. What do you have next?"

"I'm conducting an unscheduled inspection of the barracks, sire."

Arthur nodded approvingly. "Good. Walk with me?"

Leon fell into step with his king as the two moved to the small audience chamber.

"What do you know of Lady Esme, Leon?" The king's tone was measuredly casual.

"I only met the lady one occasion, my lord, when I was still a boy. I do not know much other than that she inherited her father's lands recently when he succumbed to a fever." Leon paused. "Why do you ask?"

"I only met her when I was boy, as well. Her messenger informed me, however, that she's bringing with her a veritable army of luggage with her and a slew of instructions about how her rooms are to be arranged and kept. That and it's no secret she's remained unwed all these years…" The king trailed off and was silent a moment. "This morning, Merlin called her Lady Frump or something silly like that."

Leon smiled. "I see, my lord. I'm afraid Merlin has a tendency to be right about these things." And as he said it, Leon considered momentarily how true that statement was.

"He is, isn't he?" Arthur agreed ruefully. "Well, if he's right, I'm assigning him to tend to the lady personally. I am not about to suffer her presence alone."

Leon laughed out right at that. "I'm sure Merlin will be thrilled."

Arthur grinned then noticed they'd reached his destination. "Speaking of suffering…"

Leon shook his head sympathetically as the king entered the audience chamber, then headed off to attend to his own task.

* * *

 **Readers,**

 **Thank you so much for your patience with me thus far. I ran into a major writer's block for a while and had to wrestle through some plot points. The result is that this story has grown to proportion far beyond my expectations. At this point, I think I have three distinct stories, all in the same timeline and sequential, but distinct all the same. It is at this point I find myself at a place of indecision. Should I put all three in this one fic, and denote the three stories by chapter markers only? Or should I write a trilogy of fics? Part of my hesitation is that I promised, in the summary of this story, a reveal and whump. Neither will make an appearance in the first story. I do not want to disappoint readers who follow this story because they want to see one or both of these things.**

 **Regardless of what I do, the entirety of the first story is now fully plotted out and I have written several chapters as I worked out the kinks in the story. The second and third stories are largely planned out and now need more in-depth plot development. So the way I post these stories will not affect the way I handle the plot nor will it interfere with the frequency of uploads (which will be much better, now that I'm a bit ahead and I know where I am going).**

 **Which would you rather I do? Keep everything in this fic, or change the summary and write three separate fics? I will have a poll on my profile but feel free to leave your opinion in the review section, especially if you have a particular reason for preferring one over the other.**

 **Thanks again for reading, following/favoriting, and reviewing! You have kept me motivated to stick with this story, even when the plot decided to fight back. Cheers!**


	6. Lady Esme

**A/N: It looks like I'll be keeping everything in one story, but I'll keep the poll up on my profile for a bit in case anyone still wants to add their two cents.**

 **Also, this chapter took longer to get up than I expected, and the next chapter may be delayed as well. It is not my muse that is the issue now, but my hand. I've somehow damaged my dominant hand, and I have no idea how soon I'll be able to use it properly again. (This author's note is being dictated.)**

 **On an unrelated note, any Game of Thrones fans notice on Sunday that Tom Hopper (Percival in Merlin) is now playing Dickon Tarly (Samwell Tarly's younger brother)? He's onscreen for just a bit and he's only got like two lines, but I recognized him immediately. I may be moderately obsessed with all of the male actors in Merlin.**

* * *

Merlin managed to get the patrol schedule copied and delivered to Leon while Arthur and Gwen had lunch. Gwen had graciously dismissed him after he brought their food, saying it would be nice to have a private lunch and they could manage well enough on their own.

Nothing happened in open court that was particularly noteworthy, and Merlin entertained himself by contemplating whether he was relived or disappointed that Arthur wasn't training today. On the one hand, training was the ripest time of day for mischief from the king and his knights in the form of making him run all over the place, either to retrieve items or as a moving target.

On the other hand, running about in the fresh air had a way of reinvigorating him for the rest of the day. He wasn't addicted to the blood-pumping rush of exercise the way Arthur was, but he could privately admit to himself that he saw the appeal. There was also the fun of watching the knights practice. Arthur's favored knights were renowned for good reason; a sparring match between any of them was truly a sight to behold. Merlin saw them practicing all the time, but he never got tired of watching excellent swordplay. And if sometimes he helped the knights gain the upper hand against Arthur now and again, well that only made it more exciting, didn't it? Not to mention he could win any bet made by other spectators. And as familiar as he was with event, he rarely even needed to weigh the odds in his favor.

Merlin observed in silent approval as Arthur settled a dispute between two peasants over a allegedly stolen goat, and the next petitioners were called forward. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin noticed the king shift slightly. Merlin glanced at Arthur and the later rolled his eyes ever so slightly. Merlin returned the look with a smirk then pointedly returned his attention to the newest appellants. The king emitted a sigh that was audible to Merlin's ears only.

The manservant kept his half his attention on listening to a request for a knight or two to protect a village while they rebuilt after a harsh storm. The rest of this mind drifted back over to the coming afternoon. Paperwork. Merlin didn't mind it anywhere near as much as Arthur did—it wasn't even really part of his duties but Arthur has been so overwhelmed after Agravaine was, well, gone, that Merlin had stepped in without orders or permission. But damned if he was going to let Arthur know that he rather enjoyed having a quiet sit with paper and quill now and then. It wasn't all great, of course, and Arthur was fond of handing the most boring parts to Merlin if the manservant didn't get a chance to organize things in his favor first. Which he hadn't had a chance to do today.

He lazily watched the villagers thank the king for his protection and then exchange places with a merchant with some concern about taxation of foreign goods. He covered a chuckle with a cough but Arthur glared at him all the same. Lord Bruiner had argued for a higher tariff within the city in his meeting with the king that morning. Said it would boost the economy and bring in more for the royal treasury. Arthur had rejected the idea but it had taken entirely too long to placate Bruiner, according to Arthur. Merlin was glad his presence had not been required for that meeting.

Not that preparing for the arrival of the visiting lady had been a desirable task. The noblewoman had very specific requests about the location of her rooms (on the west side so that the sun wouldn't wake her), the colors of her bed clothes (sleeping on red allegedly made her feel ill), even the scent of her chambers (gardenias), and a strange request to leave cloves and several bowls of water waiting in her chambers.

Fortunately, Heather, one of the maids, had collected the gardenias that morning so he had been free to handle the rest of the tasks, aside from the bowls. For that, he had left instructions with the head steward to be taken care of by whoever was available when the lady arrived.

Merlin hoped that if the lady was so particular, she would bring a servant or ten to care for her many whims. Otherwise Arthur was sure to hand the responsibility to his own manservant. An offhand comment from Leon when Merlin had dropped off the patrol schedule copies only served to support his suspicions.

The merchant was dismissed, and court was declared concluded for the day. Arthur twisted in his throne to stretch his back and when his eyes met Merlin's, the manservant let out a yawn. The king looked conflicted about whether to laugh or glare and quickly turned to stretch the other way. Merlin thought he saw, however, the king conceal a yawn of his own as he faced away from his servant.

Content in his private victory, Merlin stayed quiet as he followed the king out of the courtroom.

"Is my court too dull for you, Merlin?" Arthur asked as soon as they entered the antechamber.

"You were bored too," Merlin countered as he took the king's crown off the royal's head and set the piece in its case.

"If I hear one more complaint about a stolen goat, I will forbid the possession of any animal within Camelot."

"That sounds perfectly reasonable to me."

"No need to be smart, _Mer_ lin," Arthur growled good-humoredly.

"Are you going to outlaw that too, sire?"

"You do know that it is well within the law for me to put you in the dungeons for talking back, right?"

"Hmmm"

"Shut up, Merlin."

* * *

An hour into paperwork and Arthur was ready for a break. He had read the same paragraph four times, and he still had no idea what it said. Training always worked out the kinks in his back after sitting so stiffly in court. He wanted to get his blood moving, not let it thickly slink through his veins as he did even more sitting. This was positively the worst part of being king.

Arthur glanced over at his manservant sitting across from him and debated accidentally kicking him under the table. Merlin was clearly in his element here. Oh sure, he complained, but Arthur suspected that was merely out of sympathy for his own distaste for the task. Or maybe Merlin wasn't even aware of how well-suited he was to the task. With his left hand, the servant marked his place on one document, while his right one made quick notes on the second sheet.

"Bored already?" Merlin asked without looking up.

Arthur huffed. How did Merlin always know? He hadn't even set his quill down, but somehow his servant knew his attention had drifted. "What makes you think I'm bored?"

"Well, it's that or there's a big word on that report that you can't read. Do you need me to read it to you, sire?" Merlin never took his eyes from his own work but he couldn't keep a cheeky grin off his face.

"That's funny. I was actually just making sure you weren't struggling with your grain notes. I tried to find something simple and straightforward for you but I'm afraid even that might be too much for you."

That brought the servant's head up. But instead of an offended look, Merlin was grinning brightly. "Come now, sire, no need to be embarrassed. I'm sure it's a very big word. Have you tried sounding it out?" Merlin reached for Arthur's paper and narrowly missed knocking over his inkpot.

"Watch it, Merlin!" Arthur held his report out of Merlin's reach and rescued the inkpot from harm's way. "Do you really want to read about grain so much that you'd start all over again?"

Merlin snorted. "Hardly, I finished that report ages ago." He gestured to the work before him. "These are notes for your speech next week."

"What speech next week?" Arthur frowned and pulled the other document in front of Merlin closer. It was a rough version of the Essetian treaty he had met about the day before.

"You'll need to make a speech about this to the greater court when that's done, and then another to the people when Lot comes to sign it." Arthur didn't look up in time to see it, but he could hear Merlin roll his eyes.

Arthur shrugged and handed the treaty draft back to Merlin. "You've finished everything else, then?" He raised a brow.

Merlin resumed his notetaking. "What I can, yes. I can't exactly sign these." He paused a moment to tap a short stack of documents on his left.

Arthur considered making a snarky reply but nothing particularly clever came to mind, and signing his name sounded more appealing than reading a report about the economic stability of Mercia. He could let Merlin read it and tell him the important parts.

A comfortable silence took the room again, only broken by shifting pages and scratching quills. Arthur glanced at Merlin again between signatures. He barely needed to even skim what he was signing. Unlike some other things, Merlin was meticulous about transcriptions. Perhaps if Merlin had been born in the city, rather than a small farming village, he might have done well as a scribe or even as an apprentice to Geoffery.

Arthur returned his attention to the sheet before him and scribbled his signature.

"Shit!" Arthur looked up at his cursing manservant in amusement. Merlin had dragged his sleeve over the still wet sheet of his notes, ruining them. Well, that answered that notion.

Arthur chuckled and started to offer some advice about not ruining his work when there was knock at the door.

Merlin glared at Arthur as he stood and moved to answer the door. There was murmuring for a moment, then the sound of the door being shut.

Merlin came back into view, dejectedly staring at his inky sleeve. "Lady Esme was spotted approaching the citadel. We ought to get you ready to greet her."

Arthur groaned. "What are the chances she isn't as awful as she sounds?"

Merlin's response was muffled by the wardrobe he'd stuck his head in, but his glum tone made the answer clear nonetheless: not likely.

His servant put together a formal ensemble that was a fair measure stuffier than Arthur preferred but fortunately this lady did not require truly uncomfortable decorum. He allowed himself to be dressed without offering much complaint. He had considered making things difficult, if only to prolong the inevitable, but it would not do to make the lady wait.

Not to mention that Arthur fully intended to make Merlin look after the lady, and he didn't want to push his servant too far. If he did, Merlin would get cross and sullen, and Arthur wasn't sure he could survive Lady Esme's visit with a quiet, sulky Merlin for company.

Merlin must have noticed his contemplative mood because he offered his own special brand of advice. "Don't spend too much time thing about it, sire. With any luck, she just wants to see you and Gwen for the spectacle then she'll get bored and go home."

The phrasing caught his attention, and Arthur turned to fix Merlin with a particularly dangerous glare. "Did you just call me and my wife a spectacle?"

Merlin deftly ignored the glare and busied himself with blotting the ink from his ruin notes on the table. "No, I said she _thinks_ you're a spectacle. But really, you're just boring. Not Gwen. Just you." Merlin looked him in the eye with a frustratingly mischievous smile.

Arthur huffed, fully aware that he was being provoked. "I'll show you boring," he growled. Oh yes, Merlin was definitely being assigned to Lady Esme. "Let's go." And he strode out of his chambers, Merlin following barely half a step behind.

* * *

Much to Merlin's relief and Arthur's dismay, Lady Esme arrived with a copious procession of servants. Merlin marveled lightly at Arthur's ability to maintain a regal air as the courtyard grew fuller and fuller with the lady's traveling party. She had brought servants, yes, and several guards, two carts of baggage, and a carriage which presumably held the lady herself.

Gwen stood to Arthur's left, and although Merlin couldn't see her face, the way her back stiffened and her hand worried at her side told him that she was panicking just a bit. Fortunately, Arthur seemed to notice as well, because he brushed a hand against her shoulder before offering her his arm to hold. She took it gratefully and pressed herself just a little closer to her husband.

When the entirety of the traveling party had entered the courtyard and arranged themselves in some predetermined manner with the carriage nearest the castle steps, a servant opened the carriage door and Lady Esme emerged. Merlin judged the woman to be about fifty and in poor health. Though she was not particularly large, the way she leaned on her servant's offered arm when she descended from the carriage suggested a heavy weariness about her. She took a few steps forward then curtsied deeply before the king.

Arthur descended the steps with his queen still on his arm and motioned for Lady Esme to rise. "Welcome Lady Esme. It is a pleasure to see you in Camelot. I do not believe you have met my wife, Queen Guinevere."

Lady Esme rose with the assistance of a servant and smiled at the royals. "Thank you for having me, my lord. My lady, what a pretty thing you are."

Merlin frowned a bit at the noblewoman's tone, and Arthur looked to have taken offence as well but Gwen smoothly replied, "How kind of you to say so, Lady Esme. Welcome to Camelot."

Arthur nodded smartly. "Yes, it has been many years since you were last in Camelot, has not it?"

"Your tenth birthday, my lord. My younger brother competed in a tourney held in your honor."

"Ah. I'm afraid at that age I was too easily distracted by the excitement to take much notice of my guests. Forgive me for not remembering. There is no tourney at present but I am sure we can provide you with entertainment during your stay. Speaking of which, this is my personal manservant, Merlin." The king gestured behind him. "I see you have brought servants of your own with you, but if you have any needs he can fulfill, you have him at your disposal as well."

Though it was not strictly called for in this situation, Merlin stepped forward and bowed to the woman, sending Arthur the sidelong glance he used when he could not openly glare at the king. Arthur's mouth twitched slightly.

Lady Esme, however, laughed and chided the king. "Don't give away your servant so easily, my lord, without knowing how much he'll be needed. I suspect you'll be needing him from time to time, and I wager I can find plenty to keep him too busy to see to you. I may not be in my best years but you'll be wanting your manservant back before I die."

Merlin made no attempt to hide the bewildered look he gave Arthur, but the king looked confused as well. "I am afraid I do not understand your meaning, Lady Esme."

"Did I not explain myself in the letter? How thoughtless of me. No matter now; I'm here to serve as the queen's lady-in-waiting. I understand you've found no one else for her, and I feel it is my duty, old maid that I am, to serve the court this way, sire."

Arthur only looked more confused. "Lady-in-waiting?" he repeated in a very unkingly manner.

Lady Esme's hand flew to her chest in almost theatrically. "Oh dear, I should have known! You wouldn't have seen any, your father a widower as he was. It is perfectly alright, sire, you didn't know any better. A queen must have a companion to attend to her." She turned to Gwen. "Sweet dear, there is no need to be alone any longer. I'll be here to help you."

Gwen was clearly too shocked to respond properly. Arthur stepped in protectively before any more surprises decide to spring themselves on the castle steps.

"Thank you, Lady Esme, that is most kind of you to offer. You must be tired, from your journey, though. Please, take the time to rest and settle into your chambers. You are welcome to eat with us this evening, and we can discuss this then."

Lady Esme studied the king for a fraction of a moment before smiling broadly. "Thank you, my lord. But I wish to take my meal in my rooms. At my age, traveling is much more of a chore and I've had quite enough excitement for one day." She nodded then turned to Merlin, "Well then, young man, let's see where I'm staying."

Merlin bowed again, "Of course, my lady. If you will follow me." He sent one last bemused look to Arthur, before leading the lady into the castle.


	7. Funny Feelings

**Two sets of good news!**

 **First: An update! And the crowd goes...mild, probably since it's been a few months. In my defense, many things have happened since my last update, not the least which being handed an unexpected leadership position, the start of new semester at univeristy and...getting engaged! So I've had resettle into a routine and you know how that goes.** **But hopefully, those of you that are still around will enjoy this chapter. Things are happening and sinister people being sinister. Or maybe they're not? Read and find out!**

 **Second: I am participating in NaNoWriMo this year. (If you don't know what that is, I highly encourage you to google it. Basically, you try to write a book in a month, It's a lot of fun.) Instead of starting with a fresh, original story, however, I will continue to work on this and it's [potential] sequel. I know so people may consider that breaking rules, but the purpose of the competition has much more to do with learning to write regularly and knowing that you _can_ write a whole story if you try. This means that there won't be any updates in November, but I doubt that would a shocker regardless. After November, however, I will have lots and lots of content to work with. I have no idea how my word count will end up, but I will be writing every day so even if I fail the 50,000-word count (I usually do) I will at least have this story done.**

 **That being said, would anyone be interested in being a beta for this story? I am definitely going to need someone after November is over. PM if you're interested.**

 **EDIT: I'm very sorry for the double notification for this update but I absolutely need to give a shout out to 1917farmgirl for leaving lots of lovely reviews. I highly recommend everyone to go check out her story "Silence Cuts Loudest Through the Chaos," if you haven't already. It's currently my favorite fanfiction. She also updates more frequently than I do.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. I do own a very pretty ring now, though. So I've got that going for me.**

* * *

"I don't even know what a lady-in-waiting does!" Gwen had been able to maintain her composure until they had reached the royal chambers. Now she let loose the built-up panic that had started the moment Lady Esme had uttered those unexpected words. "Arthur, was that something else I missed? Should I have found someone for that?"

Her husband, who was usually very well-versed in these courtly matters, looked just as bewildered as she felt. "I don't know. The only other queen I have any experience with is Annis. And I hardly think she's a fair example of a usual queen."

"Can I refuse? Is there even any way to do that politely? Even if I am supposed to have a lady-in-waiting, I wouldn't want her."

Arthur hummed in agreement, his face set thoughtfully. He poured a pitcher of watered wine into a goblet then said, "Perhaps you could speak to Geoffrey. He would know about these things. But I don't see any way to refuse her at the moment. She holds a fair amount of control over lands at our western border, and I think she has a heavy influence on her neighboring lords. Slighting her would…" He trailed off and took a long drink from his goblet. Gwen waited expectantly for him to finish.

Finally, he continued, "It would just cause a lot of trouble within the large council. If she's really too much trouble, we can handle it, but unless Geoffrey has some protocol that can help, we have to give her a chance." He paused again and regarded his wife studiously. She felt heat rising to her cheeks under his gaze like she was still a stammering maid and not his wife.

She arched a brow to counter the flush. "What are you thinking now?"

"Perhaps this is a good thing—no, not Esme," he reassured hurriedly. "But perhaps I have been neglectful. You hardly have any female company, especially of your station."

Gwen frowned, wanting to protest but realizing he was right. Her friends among the staff, with the exception of Merlin, kept an appropriately cool distance now to her dismay, and her usual companions were her brother and the rest of Arthur's closest knights. She had enjoyed Sefa's company before the girl had turned traitor, but Gwen hadn't really sought out a replacement. But there remained the fact that if she did need to select some noble companion, she hardly knew any well enough to select someone for the pleasure of their company. The best she would be able to manage would be a political choice. And at the moment, that appeared to be Lady Esme.

She voiced this concern to her husband.

Arthur was nonplussed. "We can handle finding a better option once we deal with a current concern. I don't want that woman wandering around the castle looking down her nose at you. Speak to Geoffrey. At the very least, you can find out the best way to tell her to stuff it." Gwen made a half-hearted scolding noise that he ignored. "You do need a woman-friend, though. Merlin may gossip like a girl with you, but he's hardly a good substitute for a lady." Gwen found she could hardly suppress a giggle at her husband's inability to resist poking fun at their friend, even in his absence.

"Speaking of which," Arthur continued, "where is he? How long does it take to show someone to a room? Did he get lost?"

"You did tell Lady Esme that he was at her disposal."

Arthur's happily irritated face fell. "Oh. I did, didn't I?"

Gwen went up to her husband and gave him an affectionate kiss. "I'm sure he'll find a way to escape soon enough."

Arthur smiled down at his wife and put his arms around her. "Maybe not too soon?" he asked hopefully.

Gwen laughed lightly and disentangled herself from his arms. "Not likely. I'm going to go see Geoffrey. I want to be well prepared for tomorrow." Seeing the mild disappointment on his face, she added, "I'm sure I'll need help distracting myself from worrying tonight." Then she turned towards the door to hide her blush. The words only encouraged her husband, however, and he swept her into another kiss.

"Until tonight then, my queen." He kissed her again then let her go.

Gwen left their bedchambers and strode down the hall purposefully. As walked down the halls, however, the panic crept back into her thoughts. What if Geoffrey had no solution? What if she was going to have to smile politely and ignore the woman's obvious disdain until the lady really did die? Gwen had always been opinionated and once she had summoned the courage to speak freely to Arthur all those years ago, it had only become easier. But she still did not have that rebellious streak that allowed Merlin to not only speak his mind but mock nobility to their face when it struck his fancy.

The thought brought a little peace to her mind. Maybe if she could convince Arthur and Gaius to give him up for a while, a few well-placed comments from Merlin could take Lady Esme down a few notches.

Finally, she found herself at the library, with Geoffrey of Monmouth pouring over some old text. He looked up when she cleared her throat softly.

"My queen, what can I do for you?" he asked pleasantly.

She smiled. Despite the breach of protocol, Geoffrey had been among the more welcoming members of the council when she had been crowned. "I was hoping you could tell me a bit about ladies-in-waiting. It seems Lady Esme is intent on being mine."

The old record-keeper brightened. "Ah, the castle has been sorely lacking in women-folk, my lady. I would be happy to help." He pulled a large tome from a shelf behind his desk. "Best to start with who can be a lady-in-waiting and who cannot."

Gwen sat down in a chair across from Geoffrey's desk and settled in for the lecture.

* * *

After his wife had left, Arthur had started a fire in the hearth, unwilling to wait an indeterminate time for his manservant to return. Despite Merlin's assertions, there were plenty of things he could take care of on his own.

Once the fire was burning nicely, Arthur seated himself at the table to enjoy his wine and finish signing the papers he'd abandoned to greet the source of his newest headache. The monotonous task left his mind unoccupied and, as much as he would have liked to happily think about nothing at all, he was concerned for his wife. He really did want to avoid the political mess that would occur should Lady Esme take offense, but he was seriously considering putting up with it if it kept the lady's demeaning looks away from Guinevere.

When Merlin burst into his chambers, it was a welcome distraction.

"Arthur! Lady Esme cannot stay here!" Merlin exclaimed.

Arthur grinned, "Did Lady Esme learn just how terrible of servant you are?"

Merlin returned Arthur with an offended glare. "I'm serious, Arthur."

"So am I."

"She's bad news. Arthur, I know she's up to something."

The king smiled placatingly, "I know she's a pain, Merlin, but you can't go throwing around wild claims like that. You're just going to have to put up with her. We all are." He huffed resignedly.

Rather than being mollified, however, Merlin groaned in exasperation. "I mean it, Arthur. She was…acting suspicious."

Arthur interrupted him before he could get into a tirade. "Not another one of your funny feelings again, Merlin. If she bothers you that much, then just avoid her. Goodness knows you can avoid just about anything or any _one_ when you feel like it." The king was irritated and the dig was meant to hurt.

Clearly, it had hit as intended because Merlin raised his voice. "I can't just ignore this! It's not like I can count on _you_ to figure out what she's up to!"

Arthur clenched his jaw and bit out his response tightly, "You want to know why I never believe any of these wild claims of yours? Because you are _always_ having 'funny feelings' about everything and everyone!"

He could feel his composure cracking but he stood up from his chair and pressed vehemently. "Just because you happen to get lucky once in a while does not mean you get to say, 'I told you so', and then expect me to believe everything you say afterward. I'm sure you're very satisfied that you were right about Agravaine, but that doesn't mean that the newest castle busybody is trying to take over the kingdom!"

Arthur stopped abruptly when he heard the words that had left his mouth.

Merlin didn't seem to notice Arthur's instant regret because he responded in kind.

"Why you ungrateful, blind, single-minded, arrogant prat!" The word held none of its usual fondness and was spit out with spiteful fury. "I don't know why I even bother trying!"

Merlin moved stiffly to the door and, without looking back at his king, said coolly, "If you don't need anything, sire, I have a 'castle busybody' to keep an eye on." Without waiting for dismissal, Merlin left.

Unwillingly to let him get the last word in, Arthur called out after him. "Stay out of it, Merlin! That's an order." When no response, defiant or otherwise, answered, Arthur grabbed his goblet from the table and hurled it at the closed door.

Unfortunately, the goblet was still half-full of wine and the contents splashed all over the king and the floor as the projectile flew to its target.

"Dammit, Merlin!" Arthur growled, looking down at his wine-sodden shirt. He pulled the thing over his head and threw it on the floor. Then the king stalked over to his wardrobe in search of a fresh tunic. All he found, however, were pants, jackets, and tunics that required an extra set of hands.

"Where did that blasted servant put all my clothes?" he grumbled as he threw another rejected tunic to the floor behind him. When then next thing he grabbed turned out to be another jacket, Arthur declared to the empty room that he was king, dammit, and he could sit around shirtless if he wanted to.

When he saw the clothes strewn in front of the wardrobe, he kicked them over to the wine still pooled on the floor. He felt grimly satisfied with the knowledge that Merlin would have to get the stains out. Served the idiot right.

Arthur knew he was being childish but somehow Merlin had managed to invoke emotions out of him that he hadn't even known he felt. Just like he always did. Arthur dragged a chair over to the hearth and sank into the seat, very grateful for the warmth now that the heat of anger had cooled and the chill air took advantage of his lack of a shirt.

That was how Guinevere found him: sitting shirtless, sullen, and in deep contemplation in front of a cheery fire.

"Did you and Merlin fight?" his wife asked softly. Of course, she understood immediately what must have happened. She sat on the ground next to his chair and put a hand on his knee. "What happened?"

He blew out a long breath and looked gratefully at his wife. Her tone held no condemnation or reproach. "He came in making wild but vague declarations about Lady Esme. Apparently, she too is trying to take over the kingdom. According to Merlin, anyway. And I, well, I didn't even know I was sore at him about Agravaine but he managed to pull that out and we yelled at each other. He started it, though." He paused, unable to lie to wife. "I may have started it too."

Guinevere nodded understandingly. "Why were you angry at him about your uncle?"

Arthur sighed, "I don't know, really. It's just…how does he always know? He saw right through my uncle; he never liked him even before my father died. Now I wonder if my uncle had a hand in _that_ too. But I was completely blind, even though Merlin tried to get me to see it. Hell, I told Merlin off for suggesting that he wasn't to be trusted." He stared thoughtfully into the hearth's flames and asked softly. "Am I just too trusting? Merlin is an idiot and likes everyone and yet even he can see the snakes in the grass that I can't. What kind of king am I if I can work side by side with someone who could deceive me so easily?"

Guinevere grabbed his hand and his attention. "You are a good king, Arthur. You try to see the best in people. Just because people like Agravaine will try to take advantage of that does not mean you need to go about afraid of everyone." She paused and looked him in the eye, "Your father was like that, Arthur. He saw sorcery everywhere he turned, and it brought about the death of my father and many others. A king cannot live his life in fear, afraid of everyone. That's why you need people close to you to watch for those who would seek to destroy what you've built. That's why you need Merlin."

Arthur nodded, not trusting the swelling in his throat to produce the right sounds, and gently caressed his wife's cheek. Once he was sure of his voice again, he asked, "Your wisdom always manages to surprise me, even after all this time. How did I ever get so lucky?"

Guinevere pressed against his hand and smiled. "You saw the best in me, Arthur Pendragon. Like you did with your knights. Like you always do. Is it any wonder we do our best to live up to your expectations?"

Arthur couldn't respond to that when it struck him how he often he'd had the same thoughts about Merlin. The man had seen the best in Arthur long before anyone else and he knew now, though he'd never say as much to Merlin directly, that much of his transformation had been due to a drive to fill those great expectations his friend had for him. He shared this thought with his wife.

She smiled and simply said, "Maybe you should tell him."

Arthur scowled. "He would never let me live it down if I did. It'll be hard enough to get out an apology without him giving me grief about it. I don't need to give him anything more to work with."

Guinevere laughed merrily and laid her head against his knee to watch the fire. They sat in content silence, with the queen resting against the king and his hand stroking her hair.

After a few minutes, she spoke again. "So are you going to look into Lady Esme? Merlin does tend to be right about these things."

Arthur sighed in resignation. "I know he is. I'll have Leon look into it. I'm loath to tell Merlin, but if I don't…"

"He'll get himself into more trouble trying to prove it to you." Guinevere finished for him.

"Exactly."

* * *

Merlin was in trouble, and it was entirely Arthur's fault. If he hadn't been such a prat, Merlin wouldn't have lost his cool and gotten careless. But he had and so now Merlin was being forced to his knees in front of Lady Esme herself.

The burly man with a hand on Merlin's shoulder addressed his mistress, "Found a thief, milady. Caught him with his nose in your bags. He hadn't taken anything yet. Only thing on him was this." The man held up the knife he'd taken from Merlin's boot.

"I was just–" Merlin started but the hand on his shoulder tightened painfully, and Lady Esme fixed him with a hard look. She took the knife and examined it a moment before stepping back and finding a chair to settle into.

"You're the king's manservant. Merlin."

Merlin elected to nod rather than make a quippy remark he might regret.

"Do you make a habit of going through the belongings of the king's guests, Merlin?"

Merlin hesitated, he could lie and say "no", but telling the truth, at least in this case, might serve him well. After all, he hadn't taken anything or found anything suspicious.

"I do actually," he finally answered.

Lady Esme raised an eyebrow but waited for him to continue. Merlin decided this was a good sign.

"We've had an unfortunate problem with assassins and traitors within the castle over the past few years. I've found that the king tends to stay alive if I keep an eye on our visitors. And his relatives."

He held the noblewoman's gaze. Hopefully, if she was loyal, she wouldn't be too offended and may even assume he had the king's blessing; if she wasn't, her reaction might give her away. Either way, Merlin could only hope she would decide he was harmless and let him go.

"The king doesn't know about this, does he? This is a self-appointed task, I assume?" Merlin winced, and the lady's mouth twitched with a hint of amusement.

"Your motives are admirable," she continued. "But I am not fond of the idea of some boy going through my things, no matter how noble his intentions. I'll let you go, and I hope you'll take this gesture as one of goodwill towards the king."

Merlin physically sagged with relief. "But," she continued, and Merlin cursed his preemptive cheer. "Good faith alone never served me well." She directed her attention to the man still restraining Merlin. "That cloth around his neck. Hand it to me."

The hand disappeared from Merlin's shoulder and tugged at his neckerchief. Merlin clutched the fabric instinctively and did his best to suppress a glare at the noblewoman. "What do you want with this?"

"Insurance, Merlin. Hand it over or Erik will take it from you."

Merlin scowled but he loosened the knot at the back of his neck, pulled the item off, and handed it to the man he assumed was Erik.

Lady Esme nodded approvingly, "Good, now listen to me, young man."

Merlin gave the woman his attention, although he continued to rub his exposed neck uncomfortably.

She held a hand out and Erik left Merlin's side to deliver the neckerchief. She held Merlin's gaze pointedly as the exchange took place.

"If you ever give me or any of my staff reason to think you've been in my chambers, looked through my things, or anything else that would be considered inappropriate behavior, I will take this," she waved the red cloth for emphasis, "to the king and make a proper scene. I suspect the king has a soft spot for you, but it still would not go well for you if I publicly supply proof that you were skulking about my rooms. Maybe for theft. Maybe something worse. I can be quite hysterical when I choose to be."

She paused to let the weight of her implications sink in. "Have I made myself clear, Merlin?" She articulated his name slowly; there was certainly no doubt the woman would remember his name. She'd known it even after their very brief interaction where he'd shown her to the guest chambers.

This woman was shrewd; Merlin would need to keep a careful eye on her. Still, he responded meekly: "You have, milady."

Lady Esme studied him for a few more moments, and Merlin did his best to look properly dissuaded.

Finally, the lady handed Merlin's knife to Erik and said, "Let him have his knife back. It's a common thing; he won't be getting into anymore mischief with it than without it."

She turned to Merlin once more, "Off you go then. Mind yourself, Merlin. My staff will be watching you closely."

She waved her hand in dismissal, and Merlin stood, resisting the urge to dust off his knees. It would be even more humiliating. Erik offered him the knife hilt-first, but his eyes held a dangerous light. Merlin took the blade hastily and tucked it back into the sheath in his boot. He backed up to the door and made a quick, shallow bow before making his retreat.

When the door to Lady Esme's chambers was safely several corridors away, Merlin leaned up against a wall and let out a shaky breath. That had gone much better than it could have, but the noblewoman unnerved him beyond reason. Nothing in her chambers nor her words had belied a reason for suspicion but her knowing smile and the crafty way she had handled his snooping was more than enough to set his nerves on edge. Like she was playing a game and Merlin was simply an interesting challenge.

"Are you alright?"

Merlin started at the sudden voice and turned towards its source. Merek stood at the end of the corridor having clearly just turned the corner.

Merlin worked up his easy-going grin and said, "Of course. Just avoiding work for a little while. Needed a break, you know?" He had no doubts that Merek had heard about his allegedly-lazy ways.

Merek, however, was not convinced. "Somehow, that doesn't sound quite like the truth." He stepped closer with a concerned look on his face. "Something's wrong; you nearly jumped a foot when I said something. And there's something else…" He trailed off and looked Merlin up and down searchingly.

"Really, nothing's the matter. You just startled me is all. I thought I'd been caught–"

"Your neckerchief!" Merek cut him off with a tone of sudden apprehension. "That's what's different. I don't think I've ever seen you without one."

Merlin blinked at the observation, a little shocked that a stranger would notice such a detail.

Merek seemed to pick up on his confusion and blustered on, "My apologies, that must sound strange. It's just that no one else wears one, and that's how the other servants point you out. 'The king's manservant is the tall fellow with the neckerchief.' And once they said that, I just always noticed it."

Merlin laughed; the man's rambling sounded so much like his own when he was flustered. "I didn't know it was such a conversation piece. Servants will talk about anything, I suppose." He grinned, and Merek returned the smile.

Then Merek's eyes widened, and he grew shame-faced. "I just remembered why I was looking for you."

"You were looking for me?"

"Yes. I went to the physician's tower first, but no one was there. One of the servants I ran into near there said you might be attending to visiting lady." He paused and looked down at the bandage that still covered his hand. Only it wasn't wrapped neatly the way Merlin had fastened it earlier that morning. The bandage was dirtied, and blood had seeped through to the top layer of linen.

Merlin stepped forward and gestured for the hand. "What happened?"

"The bandage was bothering me so I took it off. I thought because it only needed the one stitch it wasn't so bad. But…" Merek trailed off as Merlin removed the final layer of linen and saw the mess beneath.

The thread Merlin had used had broken and the wound had pulled open again, wider than before. Dirt had found its way into the wound and the first signs impurity had caused the wound to swell and weep.

Merlin made a scolding noise before he remembered that Merek was an emissary and therefore of higher rank than a servant. The man had an easy air about him that suggested he didn't care much about rank. Indeed, Merek didn't seem to notice this faux pas and instead looked even more guilty.

Emboldened by this, Merlin teased lightly as examined the wound, "I don't know if I should bother patching this up again if you're just going to ruin it all."

"You don't need to worry about that! I really should have known better." Merek's words were apologetic, but he chuckled good-naturedly at Merlin's ribbing. "If you don't mind me troubling you again, I promise I'll let it be this time."

Merlin made a show of contemplating his request even as he began to lead the way back to the physician's tower. "I suppose it's not too much trouble. After all, it's as good an excuse as any to keep Ar —, the king waiting."

Merek fell into step beside Merlin and raised a brow. "Do you frequently keep the king waiting?"

Merlin nodded emphatically, "He has his entire court, if not the rest of the kingdom, ready to lick his boots. It's good for him to have to wait for someone else once in a while."

In the back of his mind, Merlin knew better than to speak so glibly about Arthur to a foreign emissary, but a larger part of him wanted to vent about the prat, and Merek seemed entirely harmless.

Merek chuckled a little uncertainly and asked incredulously, "How do you still have a job?"

"Because no one else would be able to put with him," Merlin quipped cheerily. At Merek's shocked expression, however, he added seriously, "The king treats his citizens as equals. Yes, there's a divide between the nobility and the peasantry but he acknowledges that our lives are worth the same. And there are perks to serving him since he came of age."

Merlin tactfully left out the fact that he had treated him the same even back then. Merek was easy to talk to, but the true extent and context of Merlin's friendship with the king was more than the stranger needed to know.

Still, Merek seemed to hear the unspoken implication of friendship because he looked rather amazed and said, "Friends with the king himself, imagine that."

Uncomfortable with the direction of conversation, Merlin switched to a safer topic. "Winter set in much quicker than usual. I can set some water to heat for tea while I get that stitched up."

Merek was nonplussed by the change in topic. "If it isn't too much of bother, I would really appreciate that."

They walked in silence for a few more minutes before Merek spoke again. "I hope this weather doesn't make the roads too difficult. I would hate to be stuck here for too long." Merek immediately winced and continued quickly, "I mean, Camelot is a great city and everyone is friendly but I have a wife and a wee one at home and I hate to leave them for long and there's also, well….yes, no, that's all…" Merek stumbled for more words to cover his near slip.

Merlin was about to interject with a rescue when Merek started speaking again. "I know they are probably fine. They live in the city after all, and they have plenty for wood when I'm gone, but I lost my mother to a harsh winter when I was about your age and now I worry when I'm away. I know it's different for them; she was by herself in a village and I was at the citadel trying to a get a job in the royal household. I was hoping to get enough money to send back to her but in the end, it was too late. Perhaps there was nothing I could have done even if I had been there, but I'll never know." Merek turned to look a horrified Merlin in the eye, "You got a mother, lad?"

Merlin nodded, a sudden thickness in his throat holding back any words.

"Take care of her the best you can. You don't ever want to be stuck with a 'what if' about you mother."

"Yeah…" Merlin responded reflexively but his mind was miles away with his mother in Ealdor. Maybe it was time to learned how to scry. He was always so busy that he rarely had time to spare more than a few passing thoughts for his mother beyond the monthly letter he sent with the greater portion of this wages.

In was in this contemplative state that Merlin found himself nearly walking into Mordred. The young knight flashed his usual awkward smile at the warlock, eyes darting about quickly to take in Merlin's demeanor and companion.

Merlin nodded politely, "Sir Mordred."

Merek offered a more appropriate shallow bow and missed how Mordred's eyes narrowed slightly as he paused to study the man.

The druid-turned-knight met Merlin's eyes in a clear attempt to communicate something. When Merlin's face remained blank, Mordred's voice echoed in his head. _Emrys? Do you need my help? Does Lot's man mean ill for the king?_

Merlin staunchly ignored the unwelcome mental intrusion and said aloud, "Excuse us, I need to treat his wound." He nodded to Merek's hand which the other man held up for inspection.

"Of course," Mordred replied pleasantly but his eyes remained on Merlin, demanding a response to his query. Merlin held his gaze long enough to make clear that none would be coming.

As Merlin hurried Merek along, he imagined he could feel the hurt and resentment radiating off the ex-druid. Or perhaps it wasn't imagined; Merlin closed off his mind and sure enough, the emotional pressure was alleviated.

Merlin almost sent, _Stay out of my head._ But instead sent only a vague "back off" impression in Mordred's direction. Hopefully, the message would be received without worsening the ex-druid's opinion of him. A disappointed Mordred was a far better thing to deal with than an actively resentful one.

Merlin didn't spare a glance to see how his message was received, and instead ushered Merek up the steps of the physicians' tower. He directed the man to a seat at the bench and started gathering the things he would need to clean and close the wound. Though the two incidents hardly seemed related, the encounter with the potentially-dangerous Mordred rekindled the urgent panic Lady Esme threat had instilled.

If Merek noticed his young companion's sudden shift in mood, he didn't mention it. The man explained when he had removed the bandage and what he had been doing before it started to hurt again but Merlin was only giving a small portion of his attention to the man's words and the task at hand. The rest of his mind was focused on what to do about Lady Esme. Was she really harmless? Threatening a servant for going through her things was hardly suspicious. And being suspicious of the fact she had let him go with only a warning felt a bit like looking a gift horse in the mouth. Yet the hairs on the back of his neck stood up at even the thought of her. There were no signs; just that annoying, persistent feeling he could never be fully trust but never fully ignore. The feeling that irritated Arthur so very much. It's not like Merlin enjoyed feeling paranoid all the time. Maybe Arthur should stop being king so people would stop trying to kill him. But couldn't (and wouldn't) and neither could Merlin stop sensing the when the king was in danger.

Then his mind was intruded once more, _You were being followed, Emrys. One of Lady Esme's men. He is leaving now. Should I follow him?_

Merlin tossed some shepherd's purse and yarrow into his mortar and ground the pestle against in angrily. _You're a knight, Mordred. Do what you want._ Merlin gripped the pestle and let out a slow breath. Having someone watching Lady Esme's men would actually be helpful, even if the source was questionable. He forcibly lightened his tone. _I know why he's following me, but it would be good to watch Lady Esme. I don't trust her._

 _You trust Lot's man?_

Merlin struggled to maintain a civil tone, a much harder feat to accomplish with a conversation entirely contained within his head. _At the moment, I have no reason not to. He's injured, and I am treating him. Let me focus._

Mordred's presence withdrew from his head with a trace of indignance. A sudden silence filled the room and Merlin turned to find Merek staring at him quizzically.

Merlin reddened in embarrassment. "Sorry, I was focused on this paste. What did you say?"

"I asked how many stitches I'd need. Is everything alright?"

"Of course, yes. Just thinking that I'll need to gather more of these soon." Merlin waved off the concerned look directed at him and brought his ground-herb paste over to where Merek was seated. After taking another look at the wound, Merlin handed Merek the whiskey bottle and said, "Drink up."

As the emissary did so, Merlin set about cleaning the wound with a damp cloth. Once he was happy with the state of it, he smoothed a bit of his ground paste along the wound.

"Hold still; I'm going to need to put in four of these" Merlin warned, then, as Merek fisted his other hand, the apprentice physician pushed and pulled a needle and thread through the man's wounded hand.

A few silent minutes later, Merlin slathered the rest of the paste over the stitches and bounded the hand with cloth.

"Try not to reverse all that work this time?" Merlin smiled weakly at his patient and moved to stand.

The world seemed to tilt suddenly, and he had to grip the table to keep his balance.

"Merlin?" Merek's voice echoed as if he were down the hall instead of in the same room.

The world slowed and sped up all at once as the floor began to tug intently and Merlin realized in a place in his head that wasn't quite his mind that he was about to pass out. He felt his eyes widen even as he began to crumple. Desperately, Merlin reached out with his mind and in the moment before the ground rushed to meet his head, Merlin managed out the words, _Esme…danger._


End file.
